Exploitable
by See Kee Saw
Summary: An emotionally challenged commander tentatively explores emerging xenophilliac tendencies, unaware, until it is too late, that those very feelings empower her enemies.
1. When I: Horizon

**Prelude**

_I want to say that I'll try not to make a habit of author's notes. But I feel like I must say something - consider this the 'blurb'._  
_I apologise in advance for putting out yet another fic in the already saturated Garrus/Shepard category, though I promise it has more purpose than just to detail their omg amazing love. During the course of ME1 and ME2, this Shepard made choices based around a certain set of principles, and I have found that some of her consequent choices surprised me. Some of them I don't think were fully realised by the options given to us by Bioware, so this, in part, is my attempt to rationalise and humanise the immense figure that is Shepard._  
_Also, I felt the Garrus romance, whilst entirely wonderful in its existence, somewhat lacking in the emotional department. So whilst I may stray from the absolute canon in some aspects (for the purpose of this story, I am largely following the two games' plot, but will strive to make it my own) I am going to follow the few choice dialogues/interactions which happen between Garrus and Shepard in terms of the 'seduction', and, again, try to rationalise them. After playing through ME2 for the first time with a male Shepard, and only then learning that Garrus was romanceable, I went back to ME1 specifically to make a Shepard to admire and eventually love him. The romance, whilst eventually sweet, wasn't quite what I wanted. Still, this feels appropriate for Garrus, who probably didn't look at Shepard romantically/sexually until she threw herself at him. Thus, this fic will be from the POV of my Shepard, Ivy, partly because I always imagined the attachment to stem from her, and partly because the idea of trying to capture the inner thoughts of canon characters I love so much frightens me to death. First-time fic-writer, here!_  
_Rated M for strong language (biotic headaches give you a temper), potential strong violence, and potential sexual themes. Definite spoilers for the games. All rights and love to Bioware. Thank you for reading._

_**04 07 10: Edit: **a rightfully harsh review has caused me to edit this slightly. I may heavily edit Chapter 2 in the near future, for it doesn't really advance anything except give more of an insight into this Shepard's head. Please bear with the fact that this first chapter is, essentially, a detailed re-cap of the end of Horizon; I promise to make this story my own, not to just show you things you already know._

* * *

**1. When I Looked at You Differently: Horizon**

There was nothing in this universe she hated more than husks.

She could never pinpoint her hatred; was it the noises they made, or the way that, _despite _those noises, there always seemed to be at least one which snuck around behind you, grabbed a hold of your neck, and tried to gnaw its way through your armour? If it wasn't you, it was someone else, and it wasn't as easy to throw wanton Shockwaves all over the place when one of the fucking things had a hold of your squadmate. Sometimes she didn't think that they served any use at all. Some hastily applied medigel brought them back to fighting speed only to be knocked down again - why the hell was she always the last left standing?

The answer was easy. She was Shepard, saviour of the Citadel, the intergalactic idol who rose from the shit of society and ended up saving everybody asses. Again. And again. And again.

She was never sure how she'd ended up with that impossible title, and was certain that she didn't deserve it, but that didn't stop others believing it. _Saviour?_

"Fucking move!" she yelled, relieved when her squadmates complied, mass effect fields springing up around her as she activated a barrier of her own. The Praetorian loomed, eyes only for her, and the added defence kicked in just before its particle beam could take her head off. Snarling, she levelled her own particle beam, stolen from a Collector only five minutes ago, and gave it a taste. The horrible, massive mess of floating husks gave an angry shriek, and then began the telltale song of the death choir. Why did it have to be husks? She couldn't decide if she hated this variety over your standard one, and man, don't get started on the ones which fucking explode. At least the ground was clear; there were no more Collectors, just this monstrosity standing between them and destruction of the Collector ship which hovered over Horizon. EDI was so close, but something told Shepard that this wasn't going to be a game of patience. The Praetorian had to go down. The ugly mass of husks had to go down.

It was so close; as it regenerated barriers for the fifth time, Shepard knew it was close, and her tactical instincts were fighting with her impatience to just be away from this nightmare. She glanced at Jacob and Garrus, who were both intent on their flagging foe, both stood in the protection of a truck practically on the other side of the starport. They had both been taking full advantage of the fact that the Praetorian only seemed to see Shepard, a fact which was easily exploited but hell on earth for the woman herself. She could see Jacob breathing heavily, his endurance sorely tested, and knew that Garrus must be worn out, too. His hard turian exterior would never let you believe so, but you didn't fight alongside someone for this long not to recognise the signs.

He glanced back, a chance of fate, and saw her staring. Those bright blue eyes blinked, then he shifted his rifle and gave her a broad turian grin, mandibles flaring. She returned the gesture with enthusiasm, more concerned for the stamina of her team than herself. She would hold out. She always did.

The tension in her chest released itself as a battle cry, stress overcome by adrenaline, and she shoved off from her cover, automatically drawing the attention of the Praetorian. The particle beam was swapped for her submachine gun - _all the better to eat your barriers with, bitch _- and she indiscriminately fired, doing damage and maintaining its focus all at once. Like it was interested in the other two, she scoffed. A highly destructive biotic field formed in her hand, her waning barrier flickering, and she sent the warp flying towards the enemy as she ran, unable to afford stopping and aiming. She found that her biotics seemed to naturally find their target, which was a blessing, because the particle beam hissed right at her feet as she dove into fresh cover, glancing up long enough to see that the Praetorian's barrier was visibly weakening. _Defence or offence?_ she wondered momentarily, only having the energy to summon another warp or barrier in the next few seconds. A lot could happen in a few seconds. Her nervous system screamed as the biotics kicked in yet again so soon, but it was only when the Praetorian suddenly appeared directly overhead that her decision was made - swearing profusely, her renewed barrier was, again, the only thing to save her skin. Its particle beam cut effectively at the mass effect field, but she was already gone, running just that little bit faster than the beam could be aimed. She heard the firing of weapons far behind her, desperately trying to destroy it before it destroyed her. Again she ducked behind some containers, wanting to see if she could use its own teeth against it once more. Again she hesitated, unable to decide whether to renew her barrier or shoot a vicious ball of biotic hate at the bastard creature. Was it even technically alive?

Well, whatever the answer was to that question right now, she knew that it wouldn't be any definition of alive by the time she was finished with it. Blood pounded in her ears as she forwent safety for revenge, her body aching with the constant biotics. Still, the slightly muted, distorted sound as warp made contact brought a smile to her face, and she holstered her submachine gun in favour of the particle beam, determined for this to be the end of it all.

She emerged from behind the containers, a face full of fury and bloody murder, until she was soundly checked. It wasn't there.

How the hell do you lose something that -

"Commander!" came the cry, and she realised she'd almost been outsmarted by a fusion of husks. _Almost _- their determination to destroy Shepard above all else was their timely destruction, no doubt in small part due to the obsessive insistence of their general. _Focus on Shepard. Neutralise Commander Shepard. Shepard, submit now_. She wanted to punch him in the face, whatever and wherever he was.

Instincts flashed, and her warp connected with the hideous thing's massive face at the same time as the distinctive crack of a sniper rifle sounded out, causing the Praetorian to flinch back twice. The sniper fired again in record speed, hastened, no doubt, by the threat which hung over their commander. That was all it took. The sharp forelimb of the Praetorian had been ready to strike, but her armour had barely to brace the initial impact before the entire creature seemed to dissolve before her very eyes. She could only stare dumbly. It wasn't the first time her foes had done that today - the possessed Collectors seemed to simply give up physical existence upon failure - but it was still surreal. The last time she had witnessed a corpse fade away like that, she had almost been killed in the council chambers. It didn't encourage fond memories.

"Commander," came the cry again, only this time it was gentler and less urgent. The danger had passed. Stiffly, she turned to see them jog towards her, weapons lowered but fingers still on triggers. They had all suspected that the Praetorian was the Collector's last grand offensive, but you should never assume. Jacob looked flustered, and she wondered when he had last fought something so large. Garrus, of course, wasn't phased at all, but merely looked concerned. As they got closer, she realised he also looked smug; it had been his fast handiwork which had saved her, and now he had more right than ever to boast his skills as a sniper.

"Before you start," Shepard snapped, recovering from her most shameful moment of numbness, jabbing a finger in the turian's face, "that was hardly a challenging target. You could practically shoot from the hip and still hit it."

"Commander," he said for a third time, this time with mock hurt, "do you have any idea how disorientating it is to look through the lens at a target that big? I could practically see up its nostrils."

"That thing had nostrils?" Jacob snorted. "I was too busy focusing on, y'know, the more dangerous bits."

"It was made of husks," Shepard muttered, glancing back at where it had been just a minute prior. Memory of the thing flared up - so close, she could still see that collection of almost-disembodied heads clustered around its middle, all those eyes staring at her alongside the more Collector-like ones on its head. The notion made her shudder, and she immediately despised the illusion of weakness. She was not weak.

"Ah, that would explain the-" Garrus started, but knowing exactly where this was going, Shepard shot him a venom look. Obediently, he shut up, but his mandibles quivered with what Shepard knew to be amusement. They all knew what she was like with husks. Creepers, husks, now big fucking nightmare mixtures of them - they all made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. _Outsmarted by a bunch of husks!_

"I like how your immediate reaction wasn't to protect yourself," the turian said, changing the subject slightly. "Next time, it might be wise to consider your barrier first. You couldn't know it would go down so fast."

"Yeah, well, next time I'll get just you to shoot it in the nose 'til it dies," she said, and then gestured at the console tower in the centre of the starport. "EDI will be finished by now. Let's blow that thing out of the sky. Go give the word, Jacob, I'll be there in a moment."

The operative nodded and jogged up to the tower. Shepard had planned to give the order herself, but something about the Praetorian had rendered her still quite unable to move. Was it the 'husk' thing? Was it the realisation that this whole mission had just gotten a lot more complicated? Was it the sinking realisation that Cerberus really was right about the whole thing? The skies filled with projectiles as the GARDIAN towers finally came alive and did their job, forcing a retreat from the Collector vessel. Memories seemed to crop up easily today, and she was filled with the vision of Sovereign rising up, out of the dust and clouds of a ruined Eden Prime. She knew this mission hadn't been a full success, just like it hadn't that time. People had been taken; lives had been lost. She had failed to save everyone.

Someone ran forwards - her gun flexed - but a two-fingered hand pushed it down again, calming her. It was just a colonist. Shepard had no time for his distress; she had done all she could. What more did the coward want? Carefully removing her helmet, she returned her now un-disturbed gaze to the sky, watching as the massive vessel fell out of sight. She felt oddly calm; all her foes were on that ship. They would have left nobody who hadn't already been thrown against her; she was safe, for now. It was a bittersweet safety. "Shepard?" The voice was incredulous, and matched perfectly with her current memory. Ashley Williams, the last one left fighting the geth. She had been so relieved of the company, Shepard recalled, when she and Alenko had found her. "Garrus?"

They both turned to look at her. She seemed in awe; it wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that Shepard had seen that look. It wasn't altogether often that people came back from the dead. Shepard wanted to be happy to see her, but something held her back. Ashley and her had many memories, a soldier and a biotic fighting back to back. They had had the same enemies, once. Shepard was all too aware of that.

Ashley's ignorance allowed them a warm reuniting, the soldier's reverence far too soppy for Shepard's tastes - but then she had always mixed in the soft with the hard, quoting poetry as frequently as colourful soldier language. Had her attitude towards aliens changed, Shepard wondered? The way she glanced at Garrus, who, in his own way, did look pleasantly surprised to see an old team-mate, suggested not. Then those eyes turned back to Shepard, and the very name she had been fearing was thrown at her.

She could hardly deny working with Cerberus. There was an important distinction to be made - _with_, as opposed to _for_ - but explaining that to Ashley was futile. Even as she found herself reaching out, wanting the soldier to understand, wishing that the line between friend and foe was as simple as it had been back on Eden Prime, she saw Ashley pulling back, retreating; she had vehemently, loyally denied the accusations, but she was hearing them all confirmed. Commander Shepard, who had once roamed the galaxy hell-bent on destroying the evil of Cerberus, was now their puppet? The bad taste had never left Shepard's mouth ever since Jacob's conscience had prompted him to admit it to her, but it made Ashley look as if she were about to be sick. Oh, how she could sympathise! But nothing was so simple anymore; past foes were becoming valuable tools, and past friends were sidelining her, labelling her a traitor. Could she blame Ashley? No. Could she get angry? Hell yes.

"I know, okay?" she snapped. "But we have to look at the big picture here. Besides, without them, I'd still be dead - and if I was dead, this entire colony would be dead."

"I never said I regretted you being alive! I just hate the fact that you seem to have forgotten where your allegiances lie-"

"I haven't forgotten, Ash. My place is right here, between _them _and everyone else, and that's where it'll stay until I kill them or they kill me - again."

The fire never left the soldier's eyes; she could not be brought around.

"How are you so sure who the enemy is, Shepard?" she said, voice quivering with anger. "Two years ago, you were slaughtering Cerberus just as happily as Saren's geth, and now they're your buddies? Give me a fucking break-"

"Typical," Jacob said, looking offended. "Automatically branding-"

"Shut up," Ashley and Shepard snapped in unison, and for a moment they were on the same wavelength again. It didn't last long. Ashley had had enough; neither woman was prepared to concede her point, and Shepard had to admit that it was why she had admired the soldier the first time around. She had been just as fierce as the old bastard Wrex and twice as loyal. Now? Now, Shepard was merely a familiar face stuck to a familiar enemy, and nobody came out of the encounter looking happy. Thing was, Ashley didn't need Shepard anymore. That was what hurt. The Alliance solder left without looking back.

How had it come to this? Saving the galaxy couldn't be the wrong thing; every ounce of Shepard's being told her that she was fighting the right people. Her instincts were rarely wrong. Once, she had earned the scorn and dislike of a multi-raced council because of her near-vigilante ways, but at least everybody had recognised her as the face of their salvation. Perhaps her decline had started when she had chosen not to give the order to save the Destiny Ascension. Perhaps she should have let her sights widen a little beyond the need for Sovereign's immediate destruction. Perhaps she should have stopped seeing the galaxy in black and white, a decision as right or wrong; a bullet in the head, or a bullet in the leg?

These revelations were too late now. She was a hero, but she felt like scum. Once, her name would have gone down in history as an unequivocal saviour; now she was easily branded alongside a dark, xenophobic company, and the only people who didn't care were the people who lived in places like Omega. The only people who might accept her glorious, life-saving crusade no matter who funded her were not the people she most wanted to save.

She couldn't live her life as the hero. She knew that; she had thought that she wasn't so shallow. But watching Ashley leave after so cold a goodbye left her wondering. Who was she doing this for?

A gentle hand on her elbow caused her to turn only to see Garrus, who was watching her carefully. "Are you okay?" he asked, probably more aware of her thoughts than anyone else. She could only nod. She wasn't doing it for admiration, or love; she was doing it because it was right, and because nobody else could. Cerberus was full of xenophobes, assholes and murderers, but it was run by a man who had recognised that his very existence depended on Shepard's survival. Her trust for him was so slight that it could be cut by the razor edge of a hanar. She wasn't doing this for him. She wasn't doing this for any one individual.

It didn't make it easy to forget, though, and she couldn't help but look back where her past companion had disappeared. If even members of her old crew failed to see her point of view, people who surely should know that she only did what she did for the best of reasons, then what hope was there for salvation?

"Let's go, commander," came that voice, and she realised she was utterly wrong. At least one of them had listened to her; understood that she wasn't being blind; had needed no convincing before leaping right back into the firing line with her.

Such respect, such confidence, such _faith. _She had always fought back to back with Ashley, gun blazing as biotics flared. But she always took two. The first one had rejected her.

The second was standing right next to her.

* * *

Had that been the first time?

No, no, of course not. It had started far earlier.


	2. When I: Purgatory

**2. When I Looked at You Differently: Purgatory**

It wasn't in her nature to lie; when the Illusive Man had given her the dossier of 'the most dangerous human biotic', Shepard had felt a little insulted. Fortunately, she and the Illusive Man shared a _pleasant _relationship which allowed her to speak entirely frankly with him. He rarely rose to any bait, of course, which didn't include accusation as to his intentions, and merely insinuated that Project Zero had experienced enhancement and instruction far beyond that of any Alliance-trained human biotic. It was, perhaps, misfortunate that that didn't send alarm bells ringing; her natural state was to be distrustful of him and everything he said, and this was no different. She would later learn that this only added to Cerberus' long list of misdeeds.

Proud of her L5x implant, despite the splitting headaches and who she had to thank for it, Shepard was sorely curious to see this 'ultimate' biotic. Only the recruitment of Mordin Solus - and Archangel, for they were both on Omega - had taken preference, but now it was time to satisfy curiosity. Elbows leant against the comfortable back of the pilot's chair, Shepard inhaled, ready to continue with recruitment. It was still a little hard just readjusting to the fact that she was alive, and everything which was happening almost made it seem as though nothing had changed. What had been her first actions upon setting off against Saren? Forming a team. They weren't all as easily accessible as last time, but being cherry-picked certainly made them worth it. Shepard enjoyed having a salarian on her team; it had been one of the species she had 'missed' last time around, and working closely with Kirrahe had proven their military virtues. Toning out the non-stop bickering between Joker and the ship's AI, Shepard flicked through the dossiers uploaded to her datapad. They were already en route to the mass relay which would take them to the Hourglass Nebula cluster, but Shepard wanted to have a plan for afterwards. Assuming that 'Jack' was as compliant as Mordin had been and caused no issues, the commander wanted to waste no time in collecting their next fighter. She was tempted by the krogan warlord. Wrex had left a very soft spot in her heart for the species, and though she doubted that any krogan would replace him, having one on board would certainly help push this mission further into familiar nostalgia. To run alongside a krogan again would be exhilarating!

It amused her, sometimes, when she realised she treated the Normandy almost like a zoo. The simple truth of it was, she felt a greater affinity for the aliens than her own kind; having grown up as an unwanted stranger on her own planet, there was no love lost for the human race. She disliked being forced to pretend that she shared their agenda or interests; save for very few exceptions, the aliens in her life had done far more for her than any homo sapiens. One of those exceptions was, quite possibly, the physically frail pilot in front of her, who glanced back at that point to jovially announce their arrival. The massive structure, like some kind of elegant sword, loomed ahead of them. Shepard nodded; Joker punched in the coordinates; the relay began to visibly shift, twisting slightly in the direction of the relay they were headed for. They had always awed her, and she felt as though she should brace as the Normandy was propelled forwards at insane speeds. As ever, though, the ship made mass relay travel feel no different to anything else, and so Shepard had to be content to stare out of the heavy glass windows just so she didn't forget the immensity of what was happening. Joker laughed, and she realised she was gripping onto the back of his seat. "Feel small, commander?" She lightly cuffed the back of his head before departing with a smile.

"Miranda, Jacob, Garrus, you're all coming onto the ship." She had debated only taking the humans, since this was ultimately a Cerberus deal, but bringing the turian seemed sensible; the necessary communications prior to docking had revealed the owner of the facility to be a turian, and where one turian led, many were bound to follow. Besides, it was owned by the Blue Suns, and therefore turians were bound to be a common sight. This didn't mean that Garrus had to empathise with the authorities there, but taking one of her own seemed to even the score a little. Heh, _one of her own_: she really did view this like a collection, didn't she? Mordin was too useful analysing the Collector bugs to waste his time on a simple pick-up mission, and the shuttle couldn't comfortably take more than about four anyway.

The three nodded, and began suiting up. Minutes later, the four of them were stood, guns pointing at the security who had greeted them. "Just like old times," Garrus laughed quietly, something he had been saying quite a lot since his return. Shepard had smiled, but it went over Miranda and Jacob's heads. Seeing their expressions had disorientated security for a moment, but they all swiftly got back to business; "I never relinquish my weapons," Shepard said calmly, then lowered her pistol. The turians opposite them didn't follow suit, confused by the conflicting signals. "Not that you can take them from me," she continued, voice dangerous, as distorted blue light flashed in her free hand, pulsating threateningly. It was entirely clear that no agreements were going to be made which didn't include the full arming of her team. It was fortunate that the warden appeared at this point, and though his manner was friendly, something about him made a tendon in Shepard's neck twitch. He took them away and began an unnecessary if interesting tour of the prison ship, presenting Shepard with moral decisions she wasn't entirely sure how to judge. Only the worst criminals were placed here, he had said, the types of people she didn't hesitate to destroy. Why, then, was it hard to simply acknowledge what they were doing as right? Was it the fact that she was preparing to idly purchase one of these convicts to strengthen her team? It seemed incredibly two-faced to agree with the punishments and then agree to work alongside the murderers in the same breath. Cerberus was testing what was once a perfectly-formed moral code. In the end, though, the source of her discomfort was hard to pinpoint, though maybe his lack of face paint was a factor; she had long learnt what the term 'barefaced' meant to turians - untrustworthy, '_politicians' _- and it now was a part of her vocabulary and understanding the same as any derogatory remark originating from Earth. It would never have quite the same impact on her as it would a turian, though, and Shepard idly wondered what Garrus thought of it; was he as immediately resistant to the warden's casual manner? Or was it something else? It did not matter, the mission was simple, and they were 'permitted' to keep their weapons with no further trial. _Not that they could take them from her._

_Just like old times._

"I need to confirm that the funds have cleared," Warden Kuril said, concluding the tour as he pointed them in the direction of Jack. As he turned to go, something close to malice in his voice as he said "I'll see you later, Shepard," it suddenly clicked. She held up a hand; he paused; she stared hard at him.

"Did I mention that you sound like a turian I used to know?" she said, the tone in her voice shifting between conversational and accusational. He blinked a little in surprise, since they had both enjoyed quite a professional, if cold discourse so far, and this seemed rather off-topic and pointless. He humoured her, though.

"No, you did not. A good friend, I hope?"

Shepard's eyes narrowed, and she casually turned to leave. "Nah, I got him to shoot himself."

The Warden processed that, and then huffed, leaving them to collect their prize in peace. Inevitably, it ended in a firefight.


	3. When I: Omega

**3: When I Looked at You Differently: Omega**

It had been an unexpected new friend who had first piqued Shepard's curiosity.

Aria, surprisingly helpful despite her hostility, seemed to know as little of Archangel as everybody else. Shepard was intrigued by the mystery around the vigilante do-good figure, but he wasn't on her list of priorities. Though taking advice from a Cerberus agent had made her clench her teeth in discomfort, what Operative Lawson had suggested was decent. Finding the salarian doctor first made sense. And thus, Omega it had been.

It had amused Shepard to discover Afterlife, which was the kind of club Chora's Den had wanted to be. It was equally amusing to find another connection drawn between them; no sooner had introductions been made with the local top dog, but she walked directly into a face she knew. It wasn't Finch O'Riley, but they had all run in the same crowd; it seemed that the Tenth Street Reds really had expanded, so much so that there was a little overlap with 'Eclipse', a more local and powerful gang. It amused her that some of them now ran with aliens, something which Finch had been so angry about two years ago, and it amused her that she should run into them yet again. Despite everything, the past remained inescapable. It was a curiously pleasing thought.

Ellun Rogers only knew Shepard through her fame; they had never known each other personally, since he had joined a few years after Shepard had left to begin biotics training. Being such an intergalactic superstar made her easily recognisable anyway, not least for anybody who had the fortune to touch upon those things she had touched. Sometimes, she wondered if someone from the little alleyway she remembered as a child would find her, declare that said alleyway was now paved in gold all because it had been a part of her life. Or, perhaps, somebody deliberately knocked it down. Sometimes she couldn't decide if the galaxy hated or loved her; did they want her to help, or did they want her dead? Did she truly want their admiration?

Fortunately, Ellun wanted neither; he was just as awed by the coincidence as she was, and despite the company he kept, he was a pleasant man. Shepard, who at that point was still recovering from the fact that she was alive, was in no hurry; she shared drinks with the man as Operatives Lawson and Taylor skulked in the background.

"I'm still a little shocked. All the news called you dead! I know you were pretty amazing, but rising from the dead? I mean, I heard all the generic stuff, but that's some impressive talents right there."

Shepard laughed. "I take offence to all this 'past tense' crap. I _was _pretty amazing? But seriously, it's just a good old miracle of modern medicine. I can't take all the credit."

"Nah," Ellun said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "What I heard, you caused geth to spontaneously overload, saved the universe as we know it, even had the courage to give the Council - may they rot in their spacegraves - the finger! Hell, I even heard of a few krogan who spent weeks searching their bodies for their quads after messing with you. You're some serious shit, Shepard."

Good old-fashioned praise, though hyped up, made for very easy company; she hated to admit it, but Shepard had an ego on her to rival a Reaper's. Almost. It was hard to deny being a walking fix-it machine when everything seemed to fall into place only after she had had a hand in it. Most things, at least. Despite his friendly manner, Shepard took some time to relax; it was only an hour later that she realised why.

"Just realised something. You must be the first person to approach me in the last couple of months - well, not including the last two years - who didn't want something. What's the catch, eh?"

"Catch? _You're _a catch, Shepard," he had said with an innocent smile, and she had scoffed at him. "Nah, no catch. You think this is where I come to do business deals?" When she raised an eyebrow at him, he had snorted, realising that this was exactly the type of place many people carried out 'business deals', and quickly corrected himself. "I'm not some merc, I'm not into that. I just provide technical knowledge, maybe a little red-taped info here and there." When Shepard pointed out that Eclipse was, to the best of her knowledge, a guns-for-hire organisation, he didn't dispute it. "Yeah, but I'm not _with _Eclipse; I'm a Red. We got a little base down in the Imir System. You probably don't know it, it's pretty hush hush. We ain't really got the resources to compete with the big guns, but ey, we make do. It's all planetside; can't afford much more. You should visit!"

"Sorry, Ellun, but it sounds like the kind of place I go when I want to snap necks, not be social."

He grinned. "I'm sure nobody would complain if you snapped a few necks. Can I mark them out for you with some bright paint? You get target practice, I get a quieter life, we're all happy."

Shepard peered at him through the unnatural light of the club, leering. "Do I sense a 'I want something, Shepard' approaching? I thought you said there was no catch?"

Ellun raised his hands in mock surprise of the accusation. "I'm hurt and offended, Shepard. Hurt and offended. Besides, if I wanted something from you, it'd not be your _gun_-"

"Outta your league, kiddo," she said, leaning back, grinning from ear to ear, playing to her own arrogance. The drink helped loosen her up somewhat.

"Ah - _yes _- and perhaps outta your racial preferences, too?" he said, looking less offended than amused, though mostly at her expense. She didn't get the joke. He shrugged, though the mild malice - inspired by the blunt rejection, perhaps - never left his eyes. "Eh, just rumours. Finch probably started it, you kicking his ass in front of the-"

"Turian guard," Shepard remembered, finishing his own sentence. He seemed to take this as some kind of confirmation; his eyes widened slightly, and the realisation made Shepard spit her drink out onto the table. "You think I have a thing for _turians_? Fuck me, I've done some crazy shit but I'm not suicidal. I heard they have skin like sandpaper and that's _not _location-exclusive. I like my parts as they are, thanks."

"Heh, I bet they're plenty nice." The flattery and his obvious intentions played well to her ego, but she wasn't interested, whether or not it was because she had a penchant for sandpaper. The already overlong social session had to end as Shepard's Cerberus cohorts grew intolerably impatient. Ellun had claimed he was a cut above the average scum in Omega, and so Shepard decided to extend their meeting just a little by throwing in some business. Besides, he had implied that his knowledge of Omega was decent, and he may know something that Aria did not want to divulge. There was nothing new to offer in regards to Doctor Solus, but the asari had been very forthcoming with information regarding the salarian. Shepard was more interested in learning more about Archangel before committing herself to his rescue. At her question, a long, slow grin formed Ellun's face, and he chuckled darkly. "I thought you said you _didn't_ have a thing for turians?"

That was more personal detail about him than anybody else had offered so far, and it kindled a curiosity in Shepard that she hadn't expected. "A turian? Huh. Not sure what I was expecting." Ellun watched her closely, not commenting. She found herself more and more pleasantly surprised when learning about this incredible vigilante, who had not only united powerful rivals, through their shared hatred of him, but managed to single-handedly keep himself alive and safe despite their best efforts to the contrary. From the little Shepard had heard so far, he had decimated forces.

This was a turian she had to meet.

Something in her face must have betrayed her admiration on the matter; Ellun's sly grin wormed its way back, and when he left, it was not without muttering "far be it for me to judge, though I'm partial to asari myself."

Operatives Lawson and Taylor were keen to get going, though Shepard had new information to sink her teeth into now. It wasn't much, but it was something, and was it wrong that a little part of her still hoped? It had been two years, but unlike everybody else on her old team, he had actually managed to fall beneath everybody's radar - even the Illusive Man's. Here we had a turian, working under what was obviously a code name, whose real identity was as elusive as a hanar's genitals, and she wasn't supposed to believe that coincidence had struck? When her whole existence was one big mass of convenience, and puzzle pieces seemed to just love falling into her lap with minimal coercion?

It was a shame she had already agreed to go after the salarian, but a plan was a plan, and no turian - no matter his identity, no matter how much she burned to find out the truth - would change the plan.


	4. When I: Normandy SR1

**4: When I Looked at You Differently: Normandy SR-1**

"You know, when we went to Antibaar, we found a maw."

Garrus' mandibles flickered slightly as he stared at her. "Sulking doesn't suit you, Shepard."

Shepard pouted. After everything she had faced, _boredom _was proving her undoing. "Alchera and Antibaar aren't that different in terms of surface temperature and gravity, so we know that they could survive there."

"Where can't a thresher maw survive?"

"And, if you remember, we found geth on Antibaar too. Lots and lots of geth." She looked maniacal; Garrus was almost scared. He edged away slightly. She sighed. "I miss the geth." Again she pouted; again Garrus stared at her.

It had been but one month since the glorious Battle of the Citadel, and the glorious hero Commander Shepard and her glorious ship had been reassigned to other, surely glorious things. Only there seemed to be little glory left over in a galaxy which seemed saved; there was nobody important left to kill, nobody to protect, no obvious threat to destroy. The geth still existed, but compared to the month previous, they were nothing but irritants, their apparent enthusiasm for Reaper domination quelled thanks to the destruction of Sovereign - not that said destruction had been shone in quite the right light to begin with. Shepard had experienced intense feelings of déjà vu back to her pre-Spectre days, stood in front of an ignorant Council who had presumed to tell her that _no_, there was no such thing as Reapers, and _yes_, she was obviously lying and/or deluded, and _no_, they would not be indulging her crazy fantasies. It wasn't that difficult to comprehend their point of view, in a way; what she had been telling them was horrifying and terrifying and nothing that any mortal would want to deal with. There was a very important point though - it was all _true_, and if they didn't deal with it, who would? Never mind the fact that Shepard had been proven consistently right again and again - yes, it was geth, just as I said; yes, Saren is a traitor, just as I said; yes, the Citadel is under threat, just as I said; _yes, you can all just go to fucking hell, just as I said._

She wasn't going to deny that she had felt a spike of malicious pleasure at the thought of the Destiny Ascension crumbling. She knew that her order condemned them, that their deaths lay on her conscience, but the memory of every snide insinuation came crawling back and she couldn't help but shrug off the guilt. They had been weak, blind sighted, and ultimately they had failed to secure the loyalty of the one person who could save them, the one person they had _specifically tasked _with the duty of saving everyone. They had deserved to die. People could try telling Shepard she wasn't judge, jury and executioner, but their actions defied their words; nobody had really tried to contest her decisions, nobody reprimanded her, and in the end, the galaxy was a better place. She didn't kill the wrong people. That truth she held onto tightly, perhaps with an edge of desperation; she would never publicly (or privately) doubt herself regarding her decision with the Council. Udina would lead a new one, with new councillors, and it would be better. Except it wasn't.

They had sent her after geth. The geth weren't the problem; the Reapers were. It boggled Shepard that everything could change, and yet remain the same; civilisation as they knew it wasn't saved, merely prolonged. Shepard had not faced off against Sovereign and Saren only to clean her hands of the whole affair and declare it over. Nothing she had uncovered suggested that the galaxy was safe. One destroyed Reaper was like one murdered human; there was still an entire population out there, who was probably all the more angry for it. Sovereign had only ever been a glorified scout, the head of a much larger, more vehement snake.

But glory didn't factor into anything anymore. She had stopped the tide from falling on schedule, and was rewarded with geth. One human against forces which declared themselves even above nature, and she had won - and now she was cast aside. So wasted. So useless. She hated to admit it, but the original Council had been useful; they had provided her with valuable leads with which to begin her assault on Saren. Their view of the real threat may have been dimmed, but they had proved useful. Now, though, they had nothing, partly because they wished to _believe _nothing, and instead of concrete leads, she was sent to clean up geth that were maybe in this cluster but maybe not. She was being treated like a common fucking marine, and not only was it insulting, but her brains were ready to _melt and dribble out of her ears._

In short, it was infuriating.

"-seem to have forgotten that the Mako's combat capability is still negotiable," somebody said, and Shepard realised that she had utterly lost track of the conversation. Since when did she just fall into a pit of rage and internal ranting? Since when did she have time for that? Where had the urgency of life gone?

What had they been discussing? Oh yeah - thresher maws. Shepard considered Garrus' very valid point and then deliberately licked her lips, aware that he was still looking at her warily.

"Oh, I wasn't planning on using the Mako anyway. Where's the fun in that? Besides, I heard Wrex has taken one on before - I'm sure we can repeat the experience. Better."

The turian laughed, but shook his head. "This is really getting to you, isn't it? If you want to go out in a blaze of glory, be my guest, but I won't be joining you."

That thought hurt a little. He never left her side; she made sure of it. "Scared, Garrus?"

"No, just sane." There was something in his eyes, something which hinted at his comprehending the excitement of battling a thresher maw on foot. Shepard's accusation was unfounded and she knew it; he was no coward, nothing proved that. It didn't stop her poking fun at him.

"I guess that settles that argument," she said flatly, leaning back on her chair. Garrus was leant against the divide, standing on the far side of the table. "Wrex will be delighted." They were just kicking back and wasting time because there was nothing to do, and Garrus had happened by her as she sat, mulling furiously over her situation. Something on her face had prompted him to ask the matter - but as it turned out, it was the same matter as ever. She simply couldn't reacclimatise with the tedium of unimportance.

There was the familiar whoosh of a door. "Why will Wrex be delighted?" a soft, feminine voice asked, and Shepard glanced over her shoulder to see the familiar figure of Liara, who had just left the medibay. The asari didn't normally interrupt private conversations, but boredom and idleness wasn't only affecting the commanding officer. Shepard gave the question a moment's thought, then glanced back at Garrus, who remained quite unreadable. She grinned maliciously.

"We've just scientifically proven that krogans kick turian ass. Isn't that right, Vakarian?"

"I'm not sure that's quite what was decided, commander."

"Seems pretty clear to me. Garrus," Shepard explained, pushing her chair back so she could swing it around and face Liara, who was looking both amused and bemused at the same, "has been trying to put me off the idea of hunting a thresher maw because he's afraid he'll spoil his pretty face."

"Hunting a thresher maw?" Liara repeated breathlessly. "Isn't that rather irresponsible?"

"As compared to what?" Shepard said, pulling herself back to the table, growing irritated with everybody's inherent sensibleness and lack of interest in her _marvellous _ideas. "Rushing all over the galaxy gunning down synthetics which don't matter anymore? We've been here four days, and what have we found? We don't even know that they're here, only that they maybe-perhaps-possibly _were _here recently, or not so recently, and who really knows if it was geth at all? I lose track of time when I'm not shooting people." It was times like these that she almost regretted not smoking. Even an artificial cigarette would have sufficed; she felt like one of those old, wizened, grumpy generals who complained about the glory of their past and the inadequacies of their contemporaries. She really wanted to just take a long, intimidating puff, then lean back and blow smoke into their faces.

Damnit, her mind was wandering again.

"-to her head," Garrus was saying, somehow aware that Shepard had drifted off. She decided not to care. Behind her, Liara chuckled.

"Perhaps we should mention to XO Pressly our commander's restlessness. I know he's skeptical about geth presence too, so perhaps it is time to move on?"

"To the next dead end," Garrus said, and Shepard could tell that it left a bad taste in his mouth too. Liara responded with non-committal optimism and made her excuses. Silence fell across the mess, since the majority of crewmembers had cleared out upon Shepard's decision to relax in it. Her temper flared all too often these days, and even if the rest of the galaxy had forgotten what a dangerous creature she was, the people she worked alongside had not. Some of them, of course, were plenty dangerous in their own right, but even ones like Ashley chose to no longer seek her company.

She would have been able to talk to Kaidan. Sure he was awkward and slightly dull, but he had been sincere. It almost made her regret turning down his 'advances'; in truth, they probably stemmed from her own inability to create personal boundaries at the beginning of their relationship, and so she only had herself to blame. The conversation regarding Liara's attraction had been enlightening, though. Though aware that it wasn't technically homosexuality, there was something just... not-quite-right with her being with an asari. They could preach their lack of genders all they wanted, but they had all the right curves in all the right places, and though Shepard had had little chance to explore her own desires, she knew that wasn't it. No, she wasn't quite sure of what she wanted. Or was she?

"Shepard," Garrus said, dragging back the nearest chair so that he could sit opposite her, which he did despite the fact that the ergonomic design didn't quite suit his turian frame. "I understand your frustration. I do. I just - ah..." He rubbed the back of one talon with another; Shepard said nothing, content to lean back and pretend she was puffing smoke. "I wonder if there is... really a thresher maw on that planet." The obvious fact that he had changed his thoughts mid-sentence was quite unimportant in comparison to this little glimmer of hope for some action. Pointless, meaningless violence was exactly what she needed. Garrus laughed at the way her face lit up. "You need some target practice, anyway. Otherwise who will compare with me?"

Shepard smiled. Garrus returned the gesture, though in his own curious, multi-mandibled way. There was something oddly alluring about the way those things moved, a facial expression entirely alien and yet so instantly noticeable. She hadn't yet cracked their code, but it was an active assignment. "Does this mean you're joining me?" she asked lightly, trying not to be obviously keen.

"Of course," he said softly, and for a curiously comfortable length of time, nothing needed to be said.

* * *

The Normandy literally shuddered.

For all of five seconds, it didn't seem real. Though sense dictated that, for the moment at least, her duties as a soldier would not be useful in what was clearly a struggle for the ship herself, inaction was not an option. Armour, breathing units, escape pods, beacon - all the protocol surrounding a breach of the ship's defences was put into immediate action, and there were no thoughts but the thoughts of a commanding officer whose crew were in trouble.

The ship seemed to take hit after hit, and not long before Ashley appeared the power gave out, leaving them in the ominous glare of red emergency lights. She could hear them screaming, crewmates she had already failed but could do nothing for, but she could not fixate on the loss, not now.

"Shepard!"

"Distress beacon is ready for launch," she said, bringing her helmet into place, mind only on the now.

"Will the Alliance get here in time?"

Another hit - another violent shake - something exploded to her left, and the necessity for action increased.

"I'm not doing this just so they can find our frozen corpses! Get everyone onto the escape shuttles, Ashley - now."

She hesitated - "Joker's still in the cockpit, he's not abandoning ship - and I'm not leaving either!" - so Shepard merely had to _insist_. Another rumble - another piece of Normandy torn asunder, coming crashing down over Ashley's position - a ripple of feeling and it was contained, the soldier saved a wasteful death, and Shepard's body began to tune into its own power as it always did when she started. _But this wasn't a fight. There are more important things._

"Get to the fucking shuttle! I'll haul Joker's crippled ass out of here if he likes it or not," she growled, and Ashley finally complied.

"Commander," - a two-fingered hand on her arm, a fleeting gesture, gone in an instant - "I'll see you on the other side."

* * *

Everything was destroyed. Her only comfort was in the knowledge that she had done all she could. Even as she had watched the last shuttle eject without her, the world suddenly very cold and quiet in the space just beyond a planet's atmosphere, she did not feel defeat. Her beautiful ship was broken, and there were other bodies in the air, limp and lifeless as they were. She took comfort in their small numbers, though the recognition of each face stung. Commander Shepard did not apologise to anyone, but she apologised to these. She did not feel pity for herself. There was no end she wanted more than one in battle, and as she gazed at the behemoth of what must be their attacker, she knew that it could not have ended any other way. It should not have ended any other way. After all, what was Shepard if not a barrier between the enemy and her people? Her life wasn't important; the lives spared by risking her own were. She was nothing if she could not be their protector.

And yet, she could protect no further. The escape pods ran their straight path, far too small to be detectable amongst the debris of the once-glorious Normandy. _They were safe. They were safe._

Her body... ached. The glare of the explosions left bright spots on her eyes. Whiplash left her neck and limbs sore and uncomfortable. She fell like the broken pieces towards the planet below, a part of the ship to the end, and even as the air prematurely escaped her suit she only had eyes for the shuttles.

_Let them be safe. Let them be safe._

There was nothing so important. She did not struggle as her lungs gave up, as the first pricks of intolerable heat lashed against her suit, as her vision faded and her body began to go limp.

She would protect them until the end.

_I'll see you on the other side._


	5. When I: Beginnings

**5: When I Looked at You Differently: Beginnings**

"Commander! Please reconsider."

Saren was exposed and his status as a Spectre was rescinded, a status which was now in the hands of Shepard herself. As far as she was concerned, that meant business with the Citadel was over; there was no love lost between her and the Council, and nothing could be gained by hanging around. She had the three leads, and could not waste time. From the sounds of things, Feros had to be the first step; it was quite obvious that the colony was under attack, however blind her politically minded superiors were. She was glad that she was in charge.

In charge! Relieving Anderson almost felt like betrayal, but she couldn't deny her internal concerns as the situation had grown more dire. He was a good captain, but too moralistic; she doubted he would have the nerve to get such a job done with any efficiency. She had heard the anger in his voice as he had explained Saren's villainy, the way he would 'slaughter thousands to save millions' without so much as a moment's thought. Was it not the sensible choice? Having said as much, Anderson went on to further decry the ex-Spectre by saying that he truly had no heart, and that the murder came all to easily. _Thousands for millions!_ was all Shepard could think. What if hesitation would have caused the deaths of all? What if Saren's cold-hearted choices merely seemed so because he was content to make the hard choices and get over them quickly?

Perhaps it was a turian thing. Save her recent adventures, Shepard really hadn't had much close contact with the species. It wasn't due to lack of interest, or any kind of xenophobia (though perhaps that did factor a little, if only due to ignorance) but the Normandy was a human ship with a human crew. _Okay, so only a half-human ship, but just because she was half-turian in design didn't give _this _turian a free ticket. _Still, she wasn't averse to the idea of a more permanent partnership. There just seemed to be no good reason for it.

"I don't know, Vakarian. I don't think my crew would be happy with a turian on board."

Was he irritated? It was hard to tell. Turians seemed to have the same set of expressions for every occasion. "But they're happy with a _krogan _on board?"

Ah. That.

"Probably not, but that was my decision to make. We're kindred spirits, Wrex and me. Besides, he proved his worth when we stormed Fist, and then made a very... compelling argument for staying. And all the world and their mother have krogan muscle; why can't I?" She wasn't going to mention that Tali'Zorah nar Rayya had been allowed to come along; that seemed like rubbing salt in his wounds. Metaphorically. Would that hurt a turian?

"I don't know if you have forgotten, but I was there too," Vakarian said, and there was definitely the hint of some annoyance there. Maybe hurt? "Didn't I prove my worth?"

"You were very useful," Shepard said, but wanted to take it back instantly; there had been a distinct focus on the past-participle of that sentence, and the alien had clearly picked up on it. His mouth-things twitched again, and she felt annoyance because she had no idea how to read him. Ah - but then he crossed his arms and stared at her, and that body language was _very _recognisable. What could she say? She already had Williams and Alenko, plus the krogan and the quarian. This mission didn't require an army, it required skill. Not that he didn't have skill, of course - it simply wasn't anything she needed. Firepower, biotics, technical skill... it was all there. All her bases were covered. The Mako couldn't hold _that _many people, and it seemed superfluous to have team mates only to leave them on the Normandy. "You would be bored," she said, trying and stumbling to eloquently explain just why she didn't need him without being rude.

Why did she care about being rude? It wasn't like she hesitated to throw a finger up to the turian on the council. Was she scared of him? Intimidated? Officer Vakarian was physically taller, yes, but Shepard had long learnt not to judge people by their mass - except krogans, maybe. Was she worried about his _feelings_? As laughable as the idea was, there was something heartbreaking about the way he stood there, on the docking bay - his last chance - desperately trying to get admission into the Normandy's crew. Was it possible for turians to look sad? Miserable? Unwanted? It seemed difficult to fathom, with their fierce, hard faces and eyes, their predatory manners and raptor-like builds. Nothing about them screamed sensitive. Yet, apparently, here was one such sensitive turian. Perhaps she really was just worried about his feelings - but then, if that was true, it begged the question _why_.

"Please, Commander, don't belittle me. I know all about 'boring'. You've never had to work choked by red tape, regulations, restrictions - everything to help you do a 'good job' but in reality it means you can't do any job at all. I'm tired of chasing my paper trails more often than the bad guys. I'm tired of being told that the right thing is the wrong thing and then you end up doing _no _thing at all. I will not hold you back; you have seen what I can do. There is no reason for you to leave me here!"

"What makes you think I have to oblige you?"

He was speechless. The brief monologue had quite taken it out of him; there it was, his frustrations and opinions laid bare, and that's all she had to say? Turians were hard to read, but that moment of disbelief had been extremely recognisable: his mouth fell open, his tensed arms relaxed, his eyes widened. It was all there. He wasn't that alien, really. Shepard frowned; she didn't give in to emotional blackmail. Her question hadn't merely been to put him down; it had been utterly serious. "This isn't some playground fun," she said, trying not to get wonder if turian children had playgrounds, "this is serious, and I'm not here to give light relief to every bored pencil-pusher who asks. That's not the point. You need to be as serious about this mission as we are."

"I am," he said without hesitation, but it wasn't enough. It was the obvious response, and he knew it. "Listen, I was there when you presented your evidence to the Council. I know how important this is, and how much is at stake. I spent the best part of a week trying to collect evidence against Saren to help your cause. I devoted every waking moment to it. Just because I didn't find anything worth submitting doesn't mean I didn't find anything at all; I learnt more about Saren in those days than I would like to learn about anyone, and you can't expect me to sit idly by as someone else goes after him, not when I know, just as well as you, what he is and what he is capable of. I've already quit C-Sec! I need this, Shepard. By my honour, I need it. And you need me."

That last, curious assumption aside, he made for quite a convincing argument. Externally, Shepard didn't give him anything. She continued to stare at him through controlled eyes, taking in what he said. There was no denying that his entire line of reasoning stemmed from his own needs - he had declared that much - but he had made one crucial point: his research. Perhaps there was something unique he could bring to the table and really make him worth the effort.

Besides, she didn't think that she could stand being here watching a creature-without-lips so obviously _pout_. Her eyes wandered over him; he had his own armour, his own weapons and clearly needed no training in the use or maintenance of either. If he wasn't a help, at least he wouldn't be a hindrance. She made him wait for another moment, and then sighed, waving a hand of surrender at him as she turned towards the Normandy's entrance. "Fine! Fine. You win. In the name of improving diplomatic relations, fine, you can come with me."

He tried to hide his delight, but it was almost endearing in its obviousness. "You won't regret this, commander."

"You'd better hope I don't," she said, and tried to add a little menace but it wasn't happening; he looked at her and suddenly she was aware of the fact that he was _grinning_, and she was too caught up in trying to make sense of how that worked to bicker with him anymore. After watching Wrex and Tali board up, she now wanted to spy on Pressly's reaction to having a _turian _with them. That was, perhaps, the worst species to introduce to a xenophobic human, considering the history of brief war between the two peoples. Williams wouldn't be happy, either; she had darkened at thought of working with him just to get to Fist. In the end, though, it wasn't her decision, it was Shepard's, and Garrus Vakarian had been allowed on board. There was no turning back now. She wouldn't able to haul his chicken-legged ass off no matter what she tried, not now. She followed him inside, and noticed how he seemed immediately at home. There was no way she could take this from him now. Besides, watching his tantrums was almost cute.

A cute turian. There was no need to even begin explaining how bizarre that thought was.

And yet...

_I don't care that you're human, Shepard._

She always felt a little ache when thinking about _him_. Maybe it was because he had been the first turian she had worked closely with - _was supposed to work closely with _- or maybe it was because he had really opened her eyes in relation to the difference of species. It seemed mad to think how far she had come in the last week or so, how much her mind had opened. She didn't want to think she was short-sighted, but it was hard not to see her own progress. Nihlus Kryik taught Shepard more than he would have known. Perhaps his final lesson had been his death. Saren, betrayal, the balance of trust - but not just those. The way she had looked at his body, seen the lack of life in his eyes, the vaguely surprised look on his face... she had regretted his death, sorely. He had not been a friend to her, but looking at him then, she knew that he could have been. He could have helped to open her eyes to the turian race, and more, the galaxy in general - but thinking back, he already had.

_I don't care that you're human, Shepard._

From there, it was a slippery slope, but one which Shepard embraced. She had never worked alongside so many aliens before in such a short space of time, but that one trip to the Citadel had forced her into the path of so many. Krogan, quarian, turian - and now they were all on board the SSV Normandy, her allies, her troops, her fellow soldiers, even her friends. Shepard could tell that their presence put many on edge, but she just told them to deal with it; this was bigger than humanity. In a way, she found herself in the company of the aliens more than the humans; seeing them feel so foreign on their own ship reminded her of feeling foreign on her own street, in her own city. People had made her feel unwanted. She hated to point the finger at her family, her parents, but it was undeniable that a childhood has an effect on a person, a deep effect. She would not be who she was today without the life she had had, and so she did not regret it. She did not despise anyone for it; there was nobody to blame, not really, not anymore. Everything that had happened had happened for a reason, and even if that was merely fanciful thinking, it didn't change the fact that every part of her life until this moment had been valuable. Life on the streets - life with the Tenth Street Reds - life in biotics training - life with the Alliance - life, now, as a Spectre. It was all valuable. She had slaughtered the batarians on Torfan as if they were animals. She felt no regret for their loss, but did occasionally wonder if she would do things differently, if given another chance.

She was being given another chance, of course. This was another chance to prove herself.

Having landed on Feros, she discovered she had been right; it was a warzone. Every fighting body piled off the Normandy, since it was hardly resourceful to leave good soldiers behind. Williams, Alenko and Tali had quickly fallen into the routine of helping people on Shepard's orders, and the latter had been especially enthusiastic about it. Shepard had talked with the leader as Vakarian and Wrex maintained the front line, but Fai Dan had had little to offer. Nobody knew why geth were here. _You'll just have to ask them yourself._ She intended to - with her gun.

It had seemed necessary to leave some of them behind to help guard the colony, but who? Wrex was impatient for a fight, discontent to merely aim at an empty hallway, and Shepard sorely wanted to see what he was like in some real action. Alenko had always been a staple of her team, supplementing her biotics with his own, but the krogan could fulfil that role. Williams provided essential firepower, but -

Her shields suddenly failed, having protected from a harsh pressure on her back - the instant, nearby crack of a sniper rifle, and Shepard whipped around only to see a distant geth hopper slump lifelessly out of sight. She turned her head to see the turian, looking undeniably smug, calmly replacing the heat sink. He glanced up as she stared, and somehow he _smiled_.

"Impressive shot, Vakarian."

"I know, commander."

He came along. From that moment, she rarely left the Normandy without him by her side.

She had noticed that the crew's hostilities and hesitation quickly drained away after each mission. Wrex, Tali and Garrus became one of them; they had each proven their loyalty and worth numerous times, and it was pointless to suspect them of anything but the best. Their actions commanded only respect. Shepard had once discovered that Wrex had been taught the delights of arm wrestling, and proceeded to systematically thwart the entire human crew in one night. Shepard took him on, defending the damaged pride of her people, but she stood no chance; in the end, she used her biotics to cheat, laughing as she did so, but all it took from him was an equal tactic and her hand was slammed roughly into the table, almost hard enough to break it. She knew krogans were strong, but damn, they were _strong_. Everybody on board checked any doubts they had over his being one of them; rather on their side than on the enemies'! Having proven himself stronger than any human, Wrex prepared to settle into a well-earned victory when an unexpected challenger appeared.

"Can't humanity do anything for itself?" the turian said, almost laughing, as he took the opposite seat to Wrex. The krogan stared at him, flexing slightly, very keen to prove his strength against this rather more personal opponent. Shepard had noticed an odd amiability spring up between them; though their species naturally called for conflict, Wrex had long since established the fact that stereotypes are _bad_, and Garrus had consequently had his eyes opened. Besides, they were often the two she took into combat with her, and it was hard not to trust someone after fighting for your life alongside him.

As the turian and krogan squared each other up, Shepard began to wonder if Garrus really had what it took to beat Wrex. She knew that turians were stronger and more physically able than humans, but krogans seemed like nature's bulldozers. Did he stand a chance? Evidently, some of the crew thought he did, for heightened whispering and muttering showed the many bets being made. Should she join in? She wanted to back Garrus, if only because she liked the idea of defeat of the cocky champion, but there didn't seem to be any way he could win. It was impossible to see their muscles flexing through the casual armour they wore, but the way the pair were tensed, curling and uncurling their two-fingered fists, she knew that there was a lot of unseen strength being flaunted here.

"Twenty creds on the krogan," she said, going with her gut, and people behind her cheered and booed. Garrus' mandibles flickered for a moment, but he didn't betray whatever he was feeling. Perhaps he saw that as a challenge? Elbows planted, their hands met and both their bodies shivered momentarily with the effort, and for a moment nothing happened.

That was impressive enough in and of itself. Wrex had enough strength to flatten you in a heartbeat, and most of the humans he had defeated had gone down in moments. He had toyed with others, bored with automatically winning, and let the audience think that perhaps here was a human who could defeat a krogan! He had let the hope come into his opponent's eyes before duly crushing them, and his rough laughter had sounded out yet again. That wasn't happening now, though; Shepard could see the subtle strain in his face, a strain which was mirrored in Garrus'. She wanted to see who was hurting more, but they were both stubbornly steely-faced, pride allowing neither to concede. Surely the turian couldn't win?

Their interlocked hands shook slightly, and Garrus lost ground; Wrex gave a deep grunt, Garrus gasped slightly, and the undefeated champion remained undefeated. Wrex stood, laughing harder than before, euphoric at the continued proof that he was the best. Krogans indeed kick turian ass. He was done, content to gloat, and only left after demanding a share of the betters' winnings. Shepard congratulated him and again, if internally, reiterated her pride at having him on board. "I'd teach your crew a similar krogan game," he'd said, smirking, "but it'd leave them braindead."

The fun over, most of the crew dispersed back to their duties. Garrus was the only one not to move; he simply sat there, talons laid still on the table in front of him. Shepard watched him, and thought she could hear the slight grinding of teeth. He seemed ashamed to have lost.

"C'mon, don't be like that," she said, unable to bear his hurt pride anymore. "It's not like it was surprising. He's a krogan, it'd be like me trying to beat you."

That brought his head up, and he met her eyes, sharp blue against her own soft brown. He did not say anything, but then pulled his hands back to his lap and nodded slightly, averting his gaze again.

"You did better than any of us," she continued, wanting to reassure him. His discomfort was amusing, but only in its futility; he had really expected any other outcome. "Did you really think you could beat him?"

"I've fought krogan before," he said, "and I've always won."

"Your ego will get over it. Besides, you usually have a gun, and this was just down to the physical strength of your species. Skill had little to do with it. Wrex is a beast, you know that."

He huffed slightly, then glanced back at her. She tried to smile reassuringly, but it felt forced, so she sighed and settled a hand on his shoulder. His mandibles twitched at the touch. "Listen, get over it. It wasn't a fair fight, and you were damned impressive, so there's no need to mope. Are you really going to turn emotional on me, soldier?"

He laughed again, and shook his head, a new light in his eyes. "I impressed you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You think I need impressing?"

"Of course." When he didn't explain, she raised both eyebrows, and hoped that the facial expression translated. It did. "You're, ah, our commander, and, ah, it's important that you approve of our performance."

"Are you flirting with me, turian?"

The pleasure dropped him his face like a dead weight. "No! Of course not, Shepard, I just-"

"It was a joke, Garrus," she said, batting him lightly on the arm. He calmed, and smiled. Why was she slightly disappointed? "Get some rest, we're headed out again in a few hours."

He had seemed satisfied, and she had spent those few hours contemplating her own reactions to what had happened.

Romance had never been a big feature in Shepard's life. She had had 'boyfriends' in younger years, partly due to some social expectation. She had also found that her natural inner strength and determination attracted men, especially those of military minds who truly appreciated such strength. Alternatively, she had known men who had wanted to change her, help mould her into a more genteel specimen, more suited to family and home life. Several broken arms had been her swift reply. Ever since joining the Alliance properly, and gaining a respectable rank, the most that she wanted to do with the 'nuances of the heart' was to know exactly how to stop one. She had never been one for flirting, anyway; she appreciated the potential fun, but simply wasn't very good at it. Not when it was forced, anyway; perhaps she really was attracted to Kaidan, because she found him very easy to talk to. Was that flirting? It seemed crazy to be so confident on the battlefield and so ignorant when it came to personal matters, but that was the type of creature she was. Maybe it was simply because she wasn't sure if she wanted him; if there had been no hesitation as to her feelings, she would have been far more relaxed about it. As it was, Kaidan simply wasn't everything she wanted, let alone needed. He was too mild, too conservative, and the one time he did mention 'fraternisation' it made her flinch. She had had to carefully establish the boundaries, many weeks too late. The thing was, he hadn't looked too disappointed.

Things might have been different if he had.

During one period of down-time, Shepard had been sat in her quarters, contemplating the issue. There was no small quantity of alcohol in her system thanks to the previous 'assignment' which had led them to chase a criminal to a _very _hospitable colony. Their services had been rewarded in drink, and lots of it. As the person in charge, Shepard had made sure to stay the most sober, but considering the levels of intoxication which had occurred, that really didn't mean much. She had watched Ashley and Kaidan flirt vivaciously, and had been surprised at her lack of jealousy. She had thought herself attracted to the man, but perhaps not. She considered this, and then considered her own 'preferences', choosing to systematically and childishly work her way through the men of the crew, picturing each in her head and then making superficial judgements. Most of them were easily dismissed, with reasons ranging from age to lack of humour to lack of power. Physical might and mental strength impressed her. Considering that few of the crew were orientated to combat, that alone narrowed down her 'options' quite considerably. Whilst able to hold his own in battle, Kaidan Alenko was too much of a wet blanket any other time, and that ruined the appeal. She then considered Liara, their newest addition, the only crew member to meet little resistance judging only by her alien species. Shepard didn't consider herself homosexual, but the asari had made her own attraction clear, and so it was worth deliberating. Yet, while flattered, she could not bring herself to come to any conclusion but the gentle rejection she had already given. In her alcohol-induced state, that left her mind to wander to Wrex - and the thought made her snort in sudden, violent laughter - and Garrus, which did not make her laugh even though she had expected it to.

_Huh_. And that had been the only eloquent conclusion she could come to regarding that.

From that point on, she didn't really think about romance anymore. The possibility that she was developing a 'fetish' was worrying and not something she wanted to dwell on. Sometimes, though, it was impossible to ignore.

After a lengthy trip to the markets of the Citadel in order to update gear, Shepard had been amused by her own enjoyment. She didn't enjoy shopping unless it was for lethal equipment. She had allowed the others a few hours to relax on the Citadel in whatever manner they wanted. Some of them had made specific requests for upgrades, having seen newer or more powerful models on the extranet - or in the hands of the enemy - and Shepard was happy to oblige. Somehow, she had made more money from her brief time as a Spectre than she had in her entire life. Spending it on weapons and armour was definitely a worthy cause. For most of them, she simply intended to leave the packages with their lockers. Back on the Normandy, though, descending the elevator with brand-new weapons in her arms and at her feet, she found the opportunity to relieve herself of one a little early.

"Ah! Garrus," she called, the elevator door sliding open to reveal him about to walk out of the room. He turned at the sound, and his eyes went to the gifts she bore. "Here," she said, taking one of the packages to him, delighting in the way his face lit up. The new Volkov X sniper rifle was a marked improvement on his old one, and she watched as he openly adored it, activating its scope and running his hand down it. That was all possible to cope with until he started to _purr_, and Shepard had to quickly make her excuses and leave before he saw... well, what? She had only recently realised how delicious his voice was, and that was enough to handle without having to stand that. Besides, she couldn't bear it standing there, watching him all but make love to the rifle; it made her want to do bad things.

For the most part, she didn't let it change anything. Why would it? There were more important things, and her own desires weren't strong enough to warrant frustration or concerns that it would impede the mission. Besides, nobody had to know about her 'preferences', and therefore nobody had to judge her for it. Everybody knew she was sociable with the aliens, so it was wasn't hard to disguise _affectionate _with _friendly_, and since she had no real intentions of 'advancing' the situation further than _affectionate_, it made it all the simpler. For his part, Garrus seemed entirely oblivious to any preference placed upon him, and that made maintaining a professional relationship even easier.

* * *

It was impossible to pinpoint the first time when she looked at him differently. Part of the problem was that she wasn't entirely sure what she meant by _different. _When she first stopped caring he was an alien? When she first respected him as a soldier? As a person? When she first realised how much she liked his company? When she was first attracted to his nature, and then, later, his appearance?

In the end, it didn't matter. Trying to quantify it was entirely missing the point.

"EDI, please tell Joker to set a course for Korlus. Now that Horizon's secure, we need to focus on building the team again. It's finally time to get me a krogan." Shepard leant back, fingering the datapad she had just been muttering and typing into, the thing full of her own private... hypothesising. It had been Kelly's suggestion. The idea of 'keeping a diary' was getting entirely too melodramatic for Shepard's tastes, but she had found that writing things down - memories, for example - helped to organise them and make sense out of them. She had run out of steam now, because she felt there was nothing else to cover. It would be a few hours until they arrived, so she had time to get herself together. She was in her quarters, so it would be easy to catch up on some sleep. She tapped the datapad and it flickered over to the dossiers. Several had been struck out - Mordin, Garrus, Jack - but now, post-Horizon, the Illusive Man had given her several more 'experts' to collect. That krogan was still the most tempting, though.

"Yes, commander. Would you like me to contact Officer Vakarian?"

Shepard blinked, and stared at the blue-holo which projected calmly from the port on the wall. "What?"

"There seems to be something important you wish to discuss with him."

"You been spying on me again, EDI?" Shepard muttered, aggravated at how innocent the AI naturally sounded.

"It is not spying, Shepard, I do not need to remind you that-"

"Yeah, I know," the commander muttered, tossing the datapad onto the table. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I'll, uh, talk to him in my own time." Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

"As you wish, Shepard. Logging you out."


	6. Connections

**6: Connections**

The krogan warlord Okeer had been a disappointment.

After being dropped off by the Normandy, the team had fought their way to the labs. After that, the group had been split up into three groups. Miranda, Jacob and Garrus had gone to deal with Jedore, the Blue Suns commander who was ultimately to blame for the whole mess. Jack stood guard at the other end of the building to warn of reinforcements; this facility was only a part of a much larger complex, and they hadn't killed nearly enough men to feel safe. Shepard found that the unstable biotic responded well to trust, perhaps unsurprisingly. Not only did that result in a slightly more placated Jack, but it had the pleasant side-effect of pissing Miranda off, and, by consequence, Cerberus. It was a win-win situation.

Shepard herself was still inside the labs, having run back the moment EDI had warned of toxins. Jedore had tried to gas out the building, taking out Shepard's group, Okeer and tank-bred krogan alike. She had succeeded in killing Okeer, but that was it. Mordin was with her, and currently bent over the computer console. Okeer had said that the technology had been 'absorbed' by the work, and that nothing was left behind, but that wasn't something Shepard was willing to take at face value. "Is the research valuable?" Shepard poked Okeer's body with her toe, still stinging from the let down. He'd survived for thousands of years, and died now, just when she needed him. Useless bastard.

"Not sure, nothing substantial yet," Mordin replied, picking up another datapad and flicking through it, "but is Collector technology. Might be insightful if anything can be retrieved."

"You're not interested in the works of a _krogan scientist_?" She could remember his scorn at the very notion, when they had first discussed the genophage. She had asked why the krogans did not try to reverse it themselves - _have you ever seen a krogan scientist? _he had said. Not until now.

Mordin's opinion didn't seem to have changed.

"Is not science," he scoffed, gesturing at the datapad he was reading. "Results unrepeatable due to reliance on luck. Little to no consideration for variables. Control groups. Simulations, projections. Krogans hardly known for subtlety; shows in Okeer's work. Had technology, but no idea how to use efficiently." Nevertheless, he continued to browse through it all. It seemed that Okeer had either laid out all of his research for Shepard to easily obtain, or he hadn't had time to destroy it. Or perhaps he simply hadn't given it any thought. Either way, Mordin had quickly accessed everything there was to access. Shepard was here because she had hoped to be able to recruit the krogan. As it was, the only krogan she had wasn't even technically born. Yay, a krogan foetus. The Collectors were bound to be terrified. Thanks, Okeer.

The 'super krogan' was bizarre. Perhaps she was merely too used to how adult krogan looked, all hardened and wrinkled and scarred. Was this the equivalent of a child? Mordin had concluded that the specimen was fully-grown, but there was a curious, literal softness in the krogan's face. It was as if he had an infant's skin on an adult's body. He was _smooth_. She ran her fingers along the glass of his tank, wondering what made him 'perfect' - and how could Okeer possibly know?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mordin freeze. "Hmm."

"What is it?"

"Okeer originally researched genophage. Not unexpected. Did not pursue." He hesitated, and something made his voice get a little tighter. "Nevertheless, surprisingly thorough in collection of materials to study. Some is krogan speculation; interesting but useless to him. Other samples more comprehensive, thoughtful. Recognise much of it." She heard him inhale as he rapidly scanned through the information, and only then turned to look at him.

"What is it, Mordin?"

"Worrying to think how some of this became accessible to someone like Okeer. Will admit possibility he had good contacts, but should be highly classified. Available only to those who worked on it. Disturbing implications."

"So maybe the krogans know more of your involvement than you thought?"

"Not that. Salarian contribution already public. This implies a leak, coercion perhaps, or worse."

"Worse?"

He either didn't hear her, or didn't want to answer directly. "There is mention of Blood Pack. Knew on Omega, composed mostly of krogan. Why would they be involved? What is the connection?" Mordin stopped reading to meet her gaze, and smiled slightly. "Sorry, Shepard. Unimportant for this mission. Will continue later, if there is time...?" He swept an arm at the collection of datapads and the computer console, and Shepard nodded. They had time. The Normandy was en route and she was waiting for confirmation of Jedore's demise. The salarian's omni-tool sprang up and he began to swiftly copy files as she returned her attentions to the unborn krogan. His face still fascinated her, but Mordin would not take long, and so she pressed on the communicator in her ear.

"Miranda, report."

"Jedore is down, commander. We're headed for Okeer's lab. Did he make it?"

"Negative, the toxins took him down." She thought she heard Miranda mutter a curse. "We've got... something else, though, so this might not be an entire waste. Get here ASAP."

"Aye aye."

She pressed into it again, changing the signal slightly. "Jack? Still clear?"

"Yeah. Fucking bored, Shepard."

She laughed, unable to help it, and disconnected. The fire squad returned within moments, and Shepard explained the change of plans; the last wishes of a dead krogan warlord was for them to take his 'legacy' and use it against the Collectors. She gestured at the tank, and everybody took a good, long look at it, just as unsure what to make of it as Shepard herself. The Normandy did not take much longer, landing in the temporarily 'abandoned' (read: slaughtered) docking bay nearby, and everybody hauled themselves back onto it. It was deemed most sensible to put the krogan in the cargo hold, which Shepard found to be somewhat amusing and demeaning to the beast. She wanted to let him free, determine how worthy he really was, but EDI and Mordin wanted to run more tests and scans. She had a feeling that Mordin's interest went a little beyond the krogan himself, but knew that the salarian would come clean when he found what he was looking for.

Later that day, with the Normandy orbiting Korlun, Shepard was stood over the galaxy map, deliberating their next move. She had wanted to inquire if the Illusive Man knew of any other Horizon-like leads, but Miranda had been extremely unhelpful, and thus she was stuck simply recruiting. Though she loathed to compliment them, at least the Citadel Council had given her proper assignments in chasing Saren. She had taken down an entire Reaper with a team of six - well, five, considering that Kaidan hadn't made it - and she had that many now, including the krogan. Why wait? Why not chase the Collectors? The Illusive Man had made it perfectly clear, if not intentionally, that the attack on Horizon had been due to his meddling. Why not repeat it? Shepard hated to be used, but she had begrudgingly understood the point, and it had arguably resulted in the best victory over the Collectors to date. Perhaps he thought it too soon? The 'down time' gave Shepard the opportunity to pursue her own goals, but she felt almost as bad wasting time here as she had in the weeks before the first Normandy's crashed. At least she was now working towards success, and her enemy were real and worthwhile.

Her hands darted across the hologram of the galaxy, zooming in and out with flicks of her fingers, cross-referencing the planets and star systems with the dossiers and assignments contained on her datapad. She had just about decided on a destination when someone interrupted the rather hypnotic action. "You've just received a new message," Kelly said, nodding at the terminal opposite her. Shepard's mouth became a thin line, but she otherwise welcomed the distraction, stepping back from the map in order to access it.

_Shepard,_

_I'm offended! Is it true you were just on Korlus and didn't come to visit? How can you justify coming to our beautiful garbage can of a planet without seeing my little corner of filth? You said you'd see me if you ever came planetside! I hope all this glory and importance hasn't spoilt your ability to keep a promise to a friend. Did I not give you the coordinates? Here, I've sent them again just in case. If you're still in the system, drop on by, okay?_

_Ellun Rogers_

It had completely slipped her mind that the Tenth Street Reds had a base on Korlus, just like Ellun had said. She hadn't met him again since her time in Afterlife, but it wasn't wilfully that she ignored him; there had simply been other matters to attend. Shepard found herself smiling at the message, Ellun's light heartedness a pleasant contrast to the increasing seriousness she found herself wading through. It would not be difficult to return to the planet, but was it worth the time? She glanced back up to the galaxy map, still zoomed in on Illium, and frowned. Leant against the keyboard of the terminal, though, mean that the brief flash of the screen was very noticable. Blinking, she turned her attention back to it, and saw that it was another from Ellun. Curious, she opened it up immediately.

_Shepard,_

_Hey, if you do come to visit, make sure it's just on social business, okay? I know your line of work, and if you find you need to shoot some people here... I didn't give you the coords, yeah? And let me know if you do need to shoot some people. A few hours in advance._

_Maybe I'll get the bright paint out, eh?_

_Ellun Rogers_

His concern was almost cute, but it did serve to remind Shepard of something.

"EDI, could you get Garrus up here, please?" She closed down the terminal and then strode over to the nearby tech labs, summoning a startled Mordin from his important work. He protested momentarily, but Shepard had none of it. She returned to the galaxy map with him in time to see Garrus emerge from the elevator, his face full of curiosity. Beckoning them both, she danced her fingers over the holographic map again, choosing first to zoom in on Omega.

"Mordin, you mentioned the Blood Pack in Okeer's files?"

"Yes, associated with knowledge of genophage, potential methods for overcoming it."

"Confidential knowledge, right? I wasn't being slow when you implied they might have blackmailed or harmed one of your old coworkers, someone who would have access?"

"Not incorrect. Have been investigating, found nothing conclusive yet. Have not been able to contact everyone yet, could mean anything." The doctor was already processing it all, guessing the direction of the conversation, the reason for Garrus' inclusion. Shepard hurried, not wanting to let him dominate it before she could get to the point herself. She turned her face to Garrus, who was stood over her, peering at the empty screen, waiting patiently for his part in this meeting. Only the smallest part of her revelled in the closeness; she was focused.

"You had quite an intimate relationship with the gangs on Omega. You'd have to know a lot about them."

"More than they would have liked," he said smoothly, with the hint of a turian smirk.

"And of each other?"

"More than they would have liked."

Shepard tapped the screen, pointing out Ellun's name next to one of her received messages. "I just happen to have a contact who is friendly with Eclipse and says he's somewhat of an information broker. I'm thinking he'd rather be friendly with me, though." Sidestepping Mordin and Garrus, she returned to the galaxy map, and brought Korlus back to the front. She spun the projection about and then pointed at the location Ellun had provided. "We can be there within the hour." When neither of them objected to the idea, she quickly passed the notice to the cockpit, and then pulled the map back to a full view of the galaxy. "So where, aside from Omega, does the Blood Pack have any major presence?"

He didn't need too much encouragement. Garrus began to point out bases and potential scientific establishments. Since the gang was composed of krogan and vorcha, the list of possibilities was hardly endless. Within a few minutes, Shepard's presence was no longer required; between them, the salarian and turian had all the information they needed for hypothesising. She left them to play with the map, and waited for landing.

Joker grumbled about making a superfluous journey, but he was dutifully ignored. Shepard was pleased to have found a legitimate reason to pay Ellun a visit, but it was more than that; if Mordin was concerned, Shepard was concerned, and she almost needed the concentration of the salarian more than anyone else at this point. It didn't take long before they touched down, Shepard choosing to take only Garrus and Mordin planetside. It was a gamble, considering the potentially xenophobic reception waiting for them, but she had more than enough firepower to deal with any hostilities. The Tenth Street Red's complex was crude but well-fortified, and the unexpected visit raised some nerves. Out of respect for the friend she had made in Afterlife, she chose not to enter with force, and instead insisted on speaking with Ellun. As soon as the guards realised that she wasn't there to wreak destruction upon them, the reception changed immediately. Sour looks turned to curious, mildly confused ones as Shepard boldly entered the complex with two aliens at her side. Ellun quickly greeted them, his delight obvious and strong enough to overcome any usual reaction to her entourage. Though it seemed rather too familiar, he hugged her, but she soon lapsed into his laid-back friendliness.

He invited her to join him in one of their clubs, since the sun was low on the planet and most of the men were relaxing. It was a tempting offer, but she could not forget the business she had. For a moment, his eyes grew wide and fearful when she mentioned she wasn't here to relax, and she remembered the message he had sent. Laughing, she corrected him, and explained that her salarian friend only needed some information.

"The Blood Pack?" Ellun repeated, glancing at Mordin as if he had only just noticed him. His hesitation was soon cured with a look from Shepard. "Yeah, of course we got shit on them," he said, trying to be coy, "what do you need?"

They ended up following Ellun to his office. She hardly trusted the man, but she did trust him more than anyone else in the complex. "So help me, Ellun, if you stab me in the back I'll tear you a new one. You know I can and will." He had responded with an innocent little smile, but over the next hour gave them no reason to fault him; with Shepard's persuasion, Mordin gained full access, and poured over the information. Initially, Garrus helped, but Mordin quickly delved into information far beyond his expertise. He and Shepard became superfluous, not that the commander had had much use beyond securing the cooperation of Ellun. From Mordin's mutterings, it seemed like progress was being achieved, but boredom had long set in. Ellun noticed it, and once more suggested the club.

"Go, go," Mordin said, waving a hand at her. "There is much for me to look through. Can take care of myself, Shepard."

She debated leaving Garrus to watch his back, but the turian was as restless as she, and by now Ellun had passed up many opportunities to betray them. She reminded him again, in no gentle terms, the consequences of betrayal, and once more he brushed it aside. "You're practically one of us," he said, gesturing at the poorly-sewn logo on his shirt. "Reds? Just because you don't remember doesn't mean the rest of us do. And not all of us are like Finch." The memory of that conversation made Shepard want to laugh and flinch at the same time, but fortunately Ellun didn't seem to make the same connection. Nevertheless, she was increasingly aware of Garrus' presence, and it was partly that which made her finally cave and agree to visit this club.

Within five minutes, she sorely regretted it.

With Mordin's safety still in the fore of her mind, she hadn't even considered drinking. Alcohol was available in plentiful amounts - _nothing changed_, she thought with a smile - but she fought off Ellun's disappointment with ease. She had to stay focused, especially if it became necessary to gun down the entire base, and he didn't argue after that.

The club reminded her of Flux. It was less seedy than she had expected, with a heavy focus on gambling and dancing. Here, she finally recognised Eclipse influence; there were no aliens save for salarians and asari. Whilst the latter species made up most of the 'entertainment', as they always did, there was also an increasing number of them enjoying said entertainment. There was a striking contrast between the asari in leathers and the asari in armour, but Shepard half suspected that the two types were interchangeable. It all depended on what they wanted to be on a particular night. The dancers here weren't as detached as she had normally seen them, withdrawn behind their eyes; they laughed and shared jokes and engaged in the occasional fist fight as often as their military counterparts.

Ellun found a table for them, and though he clearly wished to be alone with Shepard, Garrus stubbornly ignored any and all subtle dismissals. Shepard was grateful, up until the point their party of three became a party of four.

Rumour had it that turian culture was inherently sexist. It didn't result in the stereotypical human view of 'males are superior', but it had a curiously linear effect. Shepard had met very few female turians in her time, which, considering the nature of her last two 'suicide missions', was quite a claim. They simply didn't exist on the Citadel, or in any community which had aliens intermingling.

Female turians were welcomed into the military, but were rarely posted off-colony or on anything but a completely turian ship. It was just like 'keeping the women at home where they belong', only turians allowed them to be armed and dangerous. They rose to great ranks and commanded immense respect, just like males. They simply never left turian space.

Therefore, the presence of a female turian not only very far from any turian settlement, but also in the sole company of aliens, described Rimzia Losky very adequately. She was no patriotic or obedient turian. She did not follow orders. She did nothing but what she wanted to do.

It was little surprise that she singled Garrus out from the other side of the room; he was the only other one of their kind in the room, easily half a foot taller than any other person, and his calm, cocky strength was incredibly attractive. Shepard knew _that _all too well. It was still a surprise for everybody, Garrus included, when an elegant set of talons suddenly draped over his shoulder. Shepard's instinct was to go for her gun, but a rapid, almost nervous signal from Ellun calmed her. Garrus half-jerked in his seat, snapping his head up, and then froze.

Shepard's first thought was how much the turian reminded her of Miranda. It was the things she wore; turian's exaggerated shapes and bone structure meant that their clothes were entirely different, but you got used to the physiology. You even got used to looking at the areas other turians found attractive. Her focus was not on the breasts her species did not have, but her hips. Her matt black clothing, clearly reinforced and doubling as casual armour, covered most of her torso but dangled revealingly between her wide-set legs, allowing her bare, plated hips to act as turian cleavage. Just like Miranda cashed in on her gorgeous curves with her 'uniform', so this turian cashed in on her angles with her own. It wasn't a very attractive set-up from Shepard's human viewpoint, but the way Garrus' mandibles twitched seemed to suggest that he did not agree. There were a few other physical things which told of her gender - the reduced shoulder-crest, the wide hips and abdomen, the much longer 'strands' of metallic exoskeleton which grew from the tips of her mandibles, the way her deep grey facepaint extended elabroately onto the tips of her pale fringe - but most of it was unnecessary. She simply exuded feminine wiles, not least because of the way she lavished her attention upon Garrus.

He seemed as startled as Shepard to see a woman out here, but it didn't come with any of the negative connotations. In fact, it answered a question or two. Shepard had made it clear that Garrus was permitted to drink, but he had rightfully asked why on earth an establishment full of humans, asari and salarians would have drink suitable for dextro-amino lifeforms. Ellun had quickly and mysteriously corrected him, and suitable drink had been produced.

Apparently, Rimzia Losky was a near-permanent resident of Korlus, and she always made sure the bar was suitably stocked.

"Didn't expect me, did you?" She laughed, sliding onto the seat next to Garrus, visibly pleased by his bemused expression. He could not take his eyes from her. Her voice had the same flanging effect of all turians, and though it wasn't very different in pitch to a man's, it was still obviously female's. It was reminiscent of a human who had been smoking her whole lifetime, and had the same attractive, husky quality to it. It was fascinating how recognisable her body language was as she flirted with Garrus, how human - or, perhaps more appropriately, how _asari_. Without needing to say a word about it, Shepard was able to make some well-placed judgements about her past, and just how long she had lived here.

Of course, these weren't the only _well-placed judgements _the commander was making, but what could she do?

"I don't often see women in the Terminus Systems," Garrus was saying, very easily warming up to the attention. Rimzia had quickly found his facial scarring, the damage on his armour, and delighted in it. It was the mark of a war hero, and she clearly found power attractive. She laughed again, and the sound seemed to arouse Garrus as much as it tore at Shepard's nerves like barbed wire.

"Got that right," she purred, throwing an insultingly dismissive gesture at the asari around the room. "It's real nice to finally meet someone with _standards_." Garrus, no doubt helped by the alcohol he had already consumed, seemed to agree, and Shepard had to distract herself or break her promise to Ellun and destroy something.

"I didn't think you'd actually come by," Ellun said, providing that needed distraction. He pushed a drink towards her, but couldn't get her to bite. "I know it's only been, what, a week or two? But I know how busy your types get." Shepard allowed herself to laugh at that, though her insides still boiled. "Then I heard you'd been in the system and hadn't said hello! I won't lie, Shepard, I felt slighted."

Shepard leant closer to him, partly because it made it easier to talk over the noisy atmosphere, and partly because it blocked much of the turian courtship from view. "I've been meaning to ask about that," she said, tapping a finger on the table. "How'd you know-"

Ellun waved away the question with a slow grin. "This planet is paranoid, okay? An unknown ship appears, everybody knows about it - everybody with enough brain to pay attention, anyway. I reckon I got a sixth sense for you, Sheps. I just had a gut feeling it was you - and then the ship landed over on Laighton, and we heard about the rape at the Blue Suns' place there, and I got my ways. Nice job, by the way."

"Thanks," she said, though a little cautious. How much did he know? Perhaps he was a more valuable contact than she had given him credit for - and more dangerous.

He seemed to read that in her eyes, and it was his turn to laugh. "Please, I'm hardly a match for you. You know I'd never betray you."

"Yeah, not until you do," Shepard said, but conceded the point. She disliked tiptoeing through life. She would never deliberately put herself in a vulnerable place, but named everyone innocent until proven guilty.

It wasn't her fault most people were guilty.

"So if you're _in the know_, explain that."

Ellun followed her gaze and landed upon the two intertwined turians. The two species were so separated that, despite being at the same table, neither one of the turians noticed the look. That familiar grin spread across Ellun's face, and he quickly averted his eyes. Shepard saw some degree of discomfort there, mixed in with revulsion, but also some apology. She was about to question the last when he answered anyway, lowering his voice. "Yeah, that's Rimzia. She, eh, _found _us about fifteen years ago? She's a turian reject, basically, far's I can tell. I don't really like to get mixed up in alien politics, not interesting anyway. Anyway, yeah, sorry about distracting your turian. You don't see many of their men around here, I think she's just horny." That didn't go over well with Shepard's stomach, but somehow she kept any bad reaction from her face. "I, heh, have a few human friends who've tried to _satisfy _her, but shit, turians are beasts. I unreservedly apologise for my accusations on Omega; I know you've got way more sense than that."

"I'm not that interested in her sex life," Shepard managed to choke out. "I just wanted to know what she does here."

"Oh, of course." He made a sympathetic face, and nodded. He probably assumed the idea of alien sex was disgusting to her, hence the change of topic. He probably shared that view. "She needed sanctuary - fucking weird place for it, I tell you - but she's talented and useful, so she stays. She's not Tenth Street, and she's not Eclipse, she's just kinda... Oppleite." Opple was the name of the complex. He shrugged. "I've worked with her a few times, and shit, she's manic. Good with tech, but not bad with biotics, either."

That heightened Shepard's already-too-keen interest in the woman, and she glanced back without really meaning to. Rimzia was all but curled in Garrus' lap, fondling his fringe with one talon, crooning to him. He would chuckle, and gently nuzzle her cheek.

"Hey," Shepard overheard Rimzia purr, "you realise we're the only turians here? Where you from?"

"Palaven. Junpthor country."

"Ooh, so you know Aeiko?"

"Well enough."

The orange of her omni-tool was odd against the blues and purples which dominated the club. She waved it over her cheek, then over his, and it was gone. Shepard knew Garrus' expressions well enough by now to recognise the surprise which came over it, and she wondered what she had done - almost wanting any excuse to get violent. The surprise wasn't unpleasant, though, and to her horror he almost seemed impressed and even more turned on, particularly when she started talking again.

Shepard couldn't understand her. Somehow, the bitch had completely blocked hers and Garrus' translators from both sending and receiving. Shepard looked away, but couldn't help hearing the gutteral, growling animal sounds which was a turian's way of speaking. Even though his words were no longer translated for her, she recognised Garrus' gravely, sexy voice, and despaired. She had often wanted to hear what he truly sounded like, what his language sounded like, and now she was finally experiencing it - but nothing was directed at her. His sweet, incomprehensible nothings were being wasted on this slut of a turian, and Shepard wanted to die. No, she wanted to _murder_. She finally realised why she shouldn't do romance; it did utterly horrible things to her temper.

Ellun saved her again, though, by drawing her attention. "So, I presume your business on our beautiful planet is done? Does this mean you'll have no excuse to come by again?" Unfortunately, he then ruined it. "You bring _your turian_, I'll bring _my turian_, and we'll let them get better _acquainted_," he said softly, walking two fingers from her knee towards her groin. She was almost too distracted by the gut-wrenching mental image he had concocted to remember to swat him away, but by the time he reached his target her mind was slightly more focused. The force with which she hit him was rather more than necessary, and he flinched back from it. She wanted to apologise, but was entirely too taken up with jealousy to form the right words. Fortunately, he took her change in mood as being insulted, not envious, and duly shrank back. She could almost see his thoughts in his face; _came on too strong, not good enough, needs more alcohol_. She wanted to laugh again, but just felt sick.

He only changed the subject slightly. "So, what made you settle for some grizzled bastard?" he asked, some of the lightness gone from his voice. Shepard frowned slightly, lack of understanding briefly overcoming the anger. He jerked his head at Garrus. "I thought you were going after Archangel, remember?"

Something in Shepard's expression must have told him everything he needed to know, because he suddenly twitched before he froze. Shepard was only a second after him, realising her mistake, and was almost forced to physically restrain him. His panic was understandable. She'd brought the man who'd pissed Omega off more effectively than anyone _right to his doorstep_... his Eclipse-friendly doorstep.

"Stop it," she hissed. "He's here with me, calm the fuck down. _Down_." Though it was conspicuous - and the last thing she wanted to do right now was draw Garrus' attention - she resorted to some gentle biotic persuasion to pin him. Fortunately, the gentle pulse of the blue was perfectly in keeping with the light of the club. Ellun's fear only seemed to intensify, and that finally softened Shepard. Holding up one hand, she released him, trying to show that she was trustworthy. It was certainly an interesting turn of events. "Seriously, Ellun, he's not here to cause trouble. I'm not here to cause trouble. You know exactly what I came for - information for Doctor Solus, and to have a drink with you. That's it."

He didn't seem very placated, and dropped his gaze to the as-yet untouched glass in front of her. He paused. "Well, so far you've only proved one of the two."

Slowly, Shepard rose the glass to her lips, and took a deep drink. It was under half full when she carefully placed it back down. "See? Now I've done both. Perhaps I should get going."

"Yeah," he said vaguely, unable to force his good humour back into life. The idea of a known, dangerous hostile sitting comfortably across the table was a little too much for him to swallow. He put on a brave face, though, rising with only the hint of nerves, muttering that he would be back soon.

Shepard selfishly wished he had stayed, if only because there was now nothing to stop her from paying some kind of attention to what was happening no more than three feet away. She tried to busy herself with the drink, but Ellun was more gracious than she had given him credit for; he returned within minutes, reporting that Mordin had everything he needed and wanted to speak with her. It was an excellent excuse to return to the Normandy, but Shepard barely had a chance to reply when the table went silent.

Perhaps she noticed the paused because the constant purring and alien language had been constant. Either way, the change made her turn her head, and in that time a lot changed.

Garrus was suddenly on his feet, snarling, one hand gripping the cloth front of Rimzia's outfit. She had been taken aback, that much was obvious, but that only gave Garrus a few seconds of dominance. For a moment, Shepard was horrified to think she was witnessing the prelude to violent turian sex, but one glance at the face she knew told her _no_. He was simply angry.

Resenting Rimzia for disabling their translators, Shepard was initially too stunned to intervene as she watched the two turians snap and yell at each other, their stances growing more defensive and agitated as the seconds wore on. Rimzia yanked her top free of Garrus, only to prompt him to step forwards, invading her personal space, which in turn caused her to pull her fist back and send it cracking into his bad cheek.

A biotic pulse later, and Rimzia was sprawled on the ground, a furious adept hunched over her, ready for any excuse to vent all her pent-up fury. "_You-fucking-dare_," Shepard spat, her entire body glowing as her nerve endings screamed, and she landed one selfish punch before allowing herself to be above it, standing straight, pinning the woman under a barrage of biotic might.

"Shepard," said a gentle, growling voice, and then it followed with words Shepard didn't understand. Garrus appeared next to her, at first mirroring her look of bemusement until he realised why she looked confused. Grumbling, he brought his own omni-tool up, undoing the adjustments made, and then knelt by the restrained Rimzia in order to do the same to her. "Shepard," he repeated, glancing up at her, "do you remember what I told you after Omega? About... my team?" Shepard could almost feel Ellun tense behind her. Garrus stood, quite happy to leer over the woman he had just been cuddling with. His voice was liquid steel. "She knows the turian who betrayed me. _She knows how to find Sidonis_."

"Fuck you, Vakarian," Rimzia muttered, her jaw hurt from Shepard's assault. "Don't bring business into this. I-"

"Don't tell me what to do," Garrus hissed, and placed his foot hard on her throat. A vague wave at Shepard caused her to release the biotic hold, leaving Garrus to restrain her by his own power. She choked, gagging for air. "You know Sidonis. Tell me how to find him."

"I told y-"

"Tell me, Losky," he growled, presenting the added incentive of his rifle to the debating floor. She stared hard down the barrel, and then seemed to sigh.

"Fuck you, Vakarian." There was no conviction in her voice. Garrus had won.

He had always been passionate, but never this brutal. Shepard heard herself say "Mordin is ready, we need to go," knowing that he would not leave without his information. He had told her about Sidonis. The turian had caused the death of Garrus' squad and resulted in the latter's awkward, suicidal last stand which Shepard had interrupted. She had seen the controlled rage in his eyes as he spoke of Sidonis, the desire for revenge overwhelming everything else. It was not a state Shepard was unfamiliar with, but in Garrus?

He had been her moral rock. That wasn't to imply that he was faultless; it had been at his encouragement that she had condemned the Destiny Ascension. She had thought his crusade for justice twistedly cute. It was sometimes hard to remember that two years had passed without Shepard's involvement, but a lot could happen in two years. People could change in two years.

It was far too hypocritical of her to judge. She had encouraged his actions against Doctor Saleon, right up to and past the point when Garrus had pulled the trigger. There had been no room for pity. Why did Shepard not feel the same clarity now? Why did she feel as if there was more to this than Garrus wanted to be aware of? It was easy killing in the name of pure justice, but it wasn't always so simple. If you are going to kill, then have a good reason for it. Shepard always made sure to have a very good reason for it; her gun was never cold, and her hands were never clean of blood for long. She stood there, overcome with an irrational and hateful desire to stand up for Rimzia, Sidonis, anyone. Instead, she helped Garrus to locate an interrogation room, and stood guard as he got his answers. She wanted to believe that he was right, if only because it was him.

Who cared if another needed to die for his peace of mind? It wasn't her fault most people were guilty.

She could get over her jealousy regarding Garrus; he was her friend, but nothing suggested he wanted more than that. She doubted he had even considered it. She wasn't even sure what there was to consider; was it appropriate to pursue romantic intentions? Form a relationship? Would it give her more to fight for? She had the fate of the galaxy at her hands; the lives of trillions rested on her actions. Did she really need more to fight for?

To engage in romance seemed selfish. Distracting. She had watched Ashley and Kaidan grow close with curiosity; why didn't she feel entitled to the happiness they shared? It was all arrogance which said that she was the most important, but _everybody _told her she was the most important! She didn't need anything to detract from the mission. Geth, Saren, Sovereign, Collectors, Reapers. These were the important things.

It was easy to forget she was only human. More than that, she was mortal and breakable just like everyone else. Most of all, she was lonely. Despite the significance placed on building the team, Shepard simply didn't feel the connection with them. She had been thrown in with a bunch of people and nobody made any real effort to get to know each other. Well, that would just have to change.

The Illusive Man was planning on sending them into hell. Only the tightest of units was going to survive that.

"Get everything you needed?" Garrus nodded as he emerged, but had lost his appetite for conversation. That was fine. Shepard wanted to get off this rock, get back into the sky, get ready for the changes.


	7. Of Birth and Acid

**7: Of Birth and Acid**

"I am assuming you're on this mission for a reason. The Illusive Man didn't handpick you all just for me to hold your hands. I really don't understand your issue with this. Do you resent the fact that I'm trusting you?"

"No, commander." Shepard raised an eyebrow at the feeble surrender. She was leant against the conference table, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. The entire crew was assembled in the Communications room, except the newly-awakened krogan, Grunt. She was going to speak to him afterwards.

"I thought you would have jumped at the opportunity, Miranda. Before I stole the top spot, you were team leader." She couldn't really believe that she was having to enthuse the woman in this, but something seemed to be holding her back. That intrigued Shepard as much as it infuriated her.

"I understand, Shepard. We'll get the job done."

"Damn right you will. We don't have time to waste, and you're all perfectly capable. We arrive in half an hour, so I need everybody on board."

"Have all necessary coordinates and data, Shepard," Mordin said. "Ground team will be able to reach the hospital easily." He glanced at Miranda, then offered Shepard a wide smile. It was an expression Shepard was growing fond of. "Everything under control."

"Why can't I come with you, Shepard?" a more whiny voice said behind her, causing Shepard to turn. Jack was chewing on a toothpick and pouting something fierce. "I'd much rather butt heads with some krogans than run with the cheerleader."

"You'll do more butting if you go with Miranda," Shepard said. "You practically have a whole krogan clan to fight through. There's no planned firefight my end."

"Never is," Jack smirked, "but they happen to you anyway." She shrugged. "Fine, I'll go with the Cerberus twins."

Hearing an inhale of breath from across the room, Shepard lifted her hand to silence it. Jacob would not bitch this day. It gave Miranda a new chance to voice her incomprehensible problems, though.

"I still think you should come with us, commander. I don't-"

"What is it, Miranda? I don't understand the problem."

"Don't you?" Jack sneered, and spat out her toothpick onto the floor. "Sure you do, Shepard. Think about it from her tight Cerberus-ass perspective."

_Cerberus_. "You're not seriously turning xenophobic on me, Miranda?"

The operative looked offended, and something in her expression just made Shepard laugh. "If it makes you feel better, I'll take the turian. I'm sure that'll go down well in a krogan camp. At least we know the bastard in charge."

"It will be good to see him again," Garrus agreed.

Nodding, Shepard turned to smile sweetly at Miranda. "Now you just have to work with a salarian. Can't negotiate on that, though; he's the reason you're going down there."

"Will try not to offend with presence," Mordin said, visibly amused and far too self-assured to be offended. Whilst she admired and appreciated his maturity, Shepard was particularly tickled by the horror on Miranda's face.

"You know I didn't mean-"

"Oh, shut up. Allow us to have some fun at your expense! Crew dismissed," Shepard said, waving an arm at the door. "I expect everyone ready to go in twenty minutes. There'll be no last-minute delays this time," she said, glancing at Jacob, and, once the room was clear, she let herself laugh at his displeased reaction.

Having awakened the tank-bred krogan the night before, Shepard had discovered that being an adoptive mother was difficult. The self-named Grunt was a bundle of emotions, hormones and anger, and it had been mostly for his own good that she had suggested he remain in the cargo bay, at least for now. It had been for everybody else's good that she had made EDI keep constant video surveillance of his door. The AI had reminded her that wasn't necessary, but Shepard had failed to get clarification on whether it was the _surveillance _or the _command _which was unnecessary. She suspected the latter. Underneath all that calm, mature attitude, she bet EDI was just one big control freak.

With ten minutes to go, Shepard emerged from the cargo bay, straightening her top, the krogan not far behind. Grunt was yet to learn the meaning of personal boundaries, or that humans were about a thousand times squishier than krogans, but at least his manners had improved in other ways. It had taken a bit of a fist fight, but he was far more respectful now. She was sure his knee would heal just fine.

Jack, stood in the elevator, pointedly look from the commander fiddling with her outfit to the young krogan behind her, and smirked suggestively at Shepard, who baulked at the implication. "Not saying a fucking thing," the biotic laughed, closing the elevator's doors in Shepard's face.

Two minutes beyond that, the crew was fully assembled. Shepard ignored all the pointed sniggering from Jack and made sure that everybody knew their duties. Her squad was being split up into two teams; Mordin, Jacob and Jack, led by Miranda, were going into the Blood Pack base to recover Maelon. Thanks to Ellun, Mordin had uncovered everything he had needed, right down to the building Maelon was likely to be in and the resistance to expect. Meanwhile, Shepard and Garrus were taking Grunt to see Wrex.

The new rank and importance of her old team mate had made for a very pleasant discovery, but not much of a surprise. Despite his gruff, mercenary attitude, it had always been clear that Urdnot Wrex cared deeply for his people. Plus, he was so hardcore that his new position in leadership was fitting. No other occupation was worthy. It was a little sad knowing that his new responsibilities meant there was no chance of him joining her crew, but after some consideration, she was content to be happy for him. Besides, he would be a valuable ally if the fight against the Reapers turned into all-out war, and there was no krogan she trusted more. In all honesty, she was extremely excited at the idea of the reunion. It would be, as Garrus was wont to say, _just like old times_.

The shuttle made two journeys; the first was to drop Miranda's group in a secluded area near to the krogan hospital which hid Maelon. Once the shuttle had returned, it took Shepard and her team down to the Urdnot landing pad. Tuchanka was just as barren and miserable on the ground as it looked from the air, but the imminent promise of seeing Wrex kept Shepard in high spirits. Grunt was unimpressed and Garrus merely nervous. As hostile as the natives were to Shepard, as a human, they were tenfold less friendly to the turian, who kept his head high nonetheless. Fortunately, Grunt made for an interesting distraction, and Shepard had enough confidence to take them past any krogan who questioned them. Before too long, they were explicitly directed towards the clan leader, and Shepard almost burst at the thought.

"Shepard! My _friend_!"

It was everything she had wanted and more, and it made her heart ache with fondness. She had missed him. He brushed aside the krogan around his stone throne, eyes only for her, and they clasped hands and grinned at one another as they had once done. He did not look too different, save for the large, ceremonial armour he wore, alongside a few new scars she did not recognise. But it was the same Wrex. She wanted to just hold her belly and laugh with joy, so she thought - why the hell not? He laughed too, for the sake of it, and for a good minute their reunion needed no words. It was clear that the pleasure was mutual.

"_Shepard_," hissed another krogan voice, one she knew but not quite so well. Grunt. She had purpose here beyond friendship. Wrex twisted his neck to look past her, and saw the young krogan, standing a little apart from anyone and looking awkward. Wrex opened his mouth to speak, but then he caught sight of the tall turian beyond Shepard, and his surprise was renewed.

"Garrus! You look like hell."

"Thanks, Wrex. It's good to see you too."

The warlord grinned. "It's an improvement, lad. Now people might actually take you seriously!"

"Looks like your people are finally taking you seriously," Shepard interrupted, glancing around the crumbling building. "Clan Urdnot! Didn't you say that you'd given up on trying to save your people?"

"As it turns out, some are still willing to be saved," Wrex said, then laughed and thumped Shepard on the back before returning to his seat. "Do you like it?" he asked, and she was flattered that her opinion mattered - but they had gone through too much together not to care what the other thought. Shepard, of course, thought the entire set-up was wonderful, and he laughed again at her approval. Her death was brought up, and duly dismissed, for she was entirely bored of discussing it, even with an old friend. She had explained it too many times, and Wrex seemed to understand. It was at this point that Grunt made another impatient noise, and so Wrex summoned him closer. Shepard and Garrus stood by the young krogan's side, and after a moment, Wrex paused, stared at them, and laughed.

"I'm glad you two finally got your act together. Adopted, I see! And in my image! I'm honoured. Come here, whelp." Garrus and Shepard shared a bemused glance, but the turian got over it quickly, shaking his head hopelessly. Wrex was quite happy to change the subject and indulge in the needs of Grunt, who made his stance perfectly clear in his crude, violent way. His brutal attitude seemed to tickle Wrex, who defended Grunt against the other outspoken clan leader, Uvenk, who vehemently opposed Grunt's very existence. Being tank-bred for perfection simply wasn't enough for some people, it seemed.

It was decided that Grunt needed to pass the krogan Rites in order to become a full adult, and somehow this all ended with Shepard fighting a thresher maw on foot. Jack had been right; always expect a firefight.

This day-trip to Tuchanka was the best holiday of her life. Forget Illium or anyplace beautiful, this was the real deal.

"I can't believe it's actually happening," she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the shriek of the maw as it retreated back underground. The very ground vibrated under her feet. As if they needed more warning about the incredible danger they were in. Garrus looked at her, stood at the far side of the platform, sniper rifle pressed into his shoulder as he awaited the re-emergence of the beast.

"You'd better believe it! I don't think we'll survive if you go delusional on us!"

"No, I mean-" another ear-splitting cry signalled its return, and it was a grand return, but all three were waiting. Grunt, suicidal and bloodthirsty and utterly brilliant, charged in its direction, determined to get in range for his shotgun. It didn't work, of course, and his only reward was a near-faceful of acid, but he laughed at the sheer exhilaration and tried again. Shepard's biotic charges flew right into the maw's open mouth as Garrus fired at its more fleshy extremities, and they both fell back against their thin, crumbling towers as it withdrew once more, hearts pounding. They looked at one another again instinctively, as if the conversation had never been interrupted, and yelled across the distance. "Don't you remember, two years ago? You promised to help me find a thresher maw on Alchera, and to be there when I took it down. Don't you remember?"

If Garrus remembered, Shepard didn't know, for he was too far away to read his expression, and they didn't have time to talk further. Once more the massive beast erupted, and this time they waited a second longer before breaking eye contact - as it turned out, a second too long. "Shepard, this is amazing!" Grunt roared, completely ignorant as he fired again and again at the distant maw. The thresher maw ignored him just long enough to spit again at the creatures which hid more, and it hit the base of the pillar Shepard was using for cover. Until now, it had been splashing harmlessly against the concrete, or simply having no effect on the worn metal, but it seemed like the acid finally bit. The already unstable pillar shifted, its balance failing, and then it fell, thudding in a rather feeble way away from Shepard, who had not moved and was suddenly left with no substantial cover.

The thresher maw shrieked, and Grunt bellowed right back at it. Shepard was having to make a very quick decision. Essentially, she was trapped; there was an easy ten second sprint to the nearest cover, which was a pillar even less stable than the one she had been using. Alternatively, she could try and duck down behind the ledge formed by the platform ahead of her, which was indestructible in comparison. The only problem with that was the distance, and that it meant she had to run directly at the maw.

There was no right choice. Shepard failed to act just long enough for the beast to identify her as the best target, and spat yet more acid in her direction.

She could not move fast enough - there was nowhere to hide - her nervous system roared into life and her body glowed - the warp flew from her palm and connected with the oncoming spit, ruining its momentum, giving her enough time to roll out of the way as the acid splattered, lacklustre, all around the fallen pillar. Shepard stopped on her knees, eyes fixed on the thresher maw, levelling her weapon and raining hot fury on the thing's face, checking it for just a moment. Grunt took this opportunity to get closer, mercifully adding to the distraction, prolonging Shepard's life. The thresher maw decided this was not working, and dove underground again, giving everyone precious seconds to recover and prepare for its next arrival. Shepard scampered to her feet, leaping for the ledge, the rumbling of the ground far more pronounced than normal - it was coming up too fast - _shit she had to make it_ - yes, she was safe, shoulder thudding hard against the cold concrete, ducking down, completely safe.

_Not safe._

The large, empty concrete courtyard behind her shuddered. Everything which wasn't completely attached began to bounce about at the repeated impacts, and then were was a horrible noise as the very concrete ground cracked. Shepard was stunned into silence, quite unable to believe what was happening until the concrete barrier finally failed and the maw appeared, raining concrete blocks and rubble in all directions, just as monstrous as ever, its cry ringing in her ears and disorientating her. It was quite impossible to comprehend the size of it, particularly this close, when its imposing wall of flesh was mere metres away. Her eyes climbed its height, climbing forever. It would not wait for her to reach the top.

Her perfect cover was completely and utterly compromised, but now she had even fewer options than before. Pure instinct yelled at her to run, just run, and she ran, feeling the ground shudder behind her as the beast struck out with the limbs on its head. The danger had rocketed now that the beast was within melee range. She vaulted the ledge and just kept running, with enough sense of mind to blindly fire behind her - it would be impossible to miss - her entire world one massive unstable platform and one massive, impossible enemy. She was vaguely aware of something shouting her name, but she could not stop for anything, not until she had put enough distance between her and the enemy, brought the battlefield back to an even footing.

If only the battlefield was big enough.

She came flat against the railings, and stared hopelessly over them. Ground had come to an end; two inches in front of her toes was a long drop down to perfectly flat terrain. Even if she did survive the impact, she would be directly in the maw's element, and nothing would stop it erupting right below her feet. She had run out of room.

There was nothing for it, then.

Everything flashed blue, and she spun on her heals, face furious and adrenaline rushing. It was still impossibly big. She hurled pulse after pulse at it, ignoring the limitations and screaming of her own body. The maw gave a cry, and then thrust itself forwards, dominating even more of the platform, stabbing at the ground at small, annoying creatures which stung it. Something stood out in its vision, though - an easier target than the two which regularly hid and snuck away - a bright blue figure, whose bite hurt on a more base level than the burns of the other two. Its shriek shook the very platform as it spat, desperate and angry, and was satisfied with its consequent success.

The acid made short work of her shields and quickly began to bite through her armour. Shepard was stunned at the hit, but could see the maw intending to follow the acid with a more physical assault, so she twisted to run - and fell flat. The joints of her greaves were already ruined, lower body movement rendered impossible, at least not without incredible pain as the acid quickly ate through the softer, flexible portions at the ankle and inside of her knee. She cursed, low and long and hard, as she struggled with her own body, fighting the incapacitating pain. She was better than this! Dammit, it was just a thresher maw, she was better than this -

The world went dark as the maw loomed tall over her, blocking out the sunlight. Once more her eyes roamed up it, unable to do anything more with an increasingly paralysed body. She wasn't going to die here, like this, at the mercy of an animal. It just wasn't going to happen.

Saying that was all fine and well, but how exactly did she plan on putting that into action?

The acid didn't stop her biotics, and they flared into life again, her body a shimmering blue target in the shade. Palms flat on the ground, she propelled herself up onto her knees and faced her death. A massive limb lashed out towards her, and it took every ounce of her being to combat it. It was no barrier; she simply hurled warp after warp at it, determined to deflect it through a sheer battle of _who can inflict the most pain_, and for a few seconds, she was winning. The thresher maw clearly hadn't counted on the sheer ferocity of the tiny bug it wanted to squash, but it didn't matter. It flinched away, and she relented a little. Her entire body screamed; her legs felt as if they were melting, and her spine was on fire, her nervous system complaining heavily after so much biotic use. She collapsed, one palm back on the floor, trying to summon the strength to continue the fight, knowing that any sign of weakness would encourage the maw to try again - but she didn't have to worry about that. It had never given up.

She could hear it, that horrible, squelching sound which signalled the spit of a thresher maw, but she didn't even have the energy to lift her head and watch it. There was a sudden pressure on the back of her neck, her shoulders, and her legs screamed as she suddenly lurched forwards, but that didn't make sense - it was completely wrong with the direction of the projectile acid -

She was lifted slightly, her entire movement based around the pressure at the base of her neck, staring at the ground underneath her as it slipped away. All of a sudden, she was unceremoniously dropped, left to crash back into the ground. Pain seared through her again, but she did not allow it to overtake her, not this time. Some shots were fired very close to her, distinctive shots, shots from a sniper rifle, and Shepard filled with realisation and relief as she heaved her face from the ground, propped herself up by the elbow, and regarded her new situation.

Garrus had dragged her over twenty feet to the cover of another concrete tower. He was stood with his back to it, taking momentary cover from the maw, his chest heaving despite the armour. He was visibly exhausted, but nothing in his face suggested defeat. With impressive calm, he stepped free of the cover, and, wielding his sniper rifle like a shotgun, fired off a full, rapid round. It occurred to Shepard, as she fought valiantly with unconsciousness, that Grunt was nowhere to be seen, until she heard a defiant roar. Garrus' discarded heat sink dropped to the ground near her face and he fired again, adding distraction, but Shepard could see nothing from behind the tower. There was a moment of pause, then the furious roar of a shotgun, and a very distinct crack. Shepard's mind flooded with panic for Grunt, but, of course, it was needless. The maw gave a distinctly pained screech and the ground rumbled as it relinquished its position, pulling back into the ground, letting the platform be safe again.

After the yelling and shouting and roaring and shrieks which had dominated the last couple of minutes, it seemed completely, eerily silent. The only noticeable sound was the way she and Garrus drew desperate, hungry breaths, lungs burning. The brief moment of reprieve allowed Shepard to collapse again, the pain in her legs now more of a deep, dull ache, but she was not allowed to stay for long. Strong hands were at her shoulders, lifting her up until she gave a grunt of disapproval and the extent of the damage was realised. Cursing, Garrus turned her and sat her by the pillar with her back against it so that she did not have to stand. He knelt by her, regarding the damage, and swept his omni-tool over her legs. The medi-gel began to work immediately to lighten the pain and combat the acid, making it easier to breathe again, but she would need serious medical attention before long. "Thanks," she managed, and he finally turned his face to look at her.

"I still don't understand you," he muttered, and shook his head. "You'd be in much better shape right now if you only thought defensively. You can't win every battle like that."

"Like hell I can't," she spat, but her defiance didn't move him.

"I volunteered, I volunteered," he chanted softly to himself, prompting her to raise a finger at him. He laughed, but then coughed, obviously in worse shape than he would care to admit.

"It's not over," came a more gruff voice, and Grunt appeared, looking remarkably unscathed. The young krogan seemed exhilarated, enthused and enlightened by the mad experience. He glanced over Shepard once, then turned away. He wasn't a doctor; he could see she was alive, and that was enough. It was disquieting for him to see her act weak. Shepard knew very well what he must be thinking, and the new surge of determination prompted her to push herself up, struggling onto her feet. Her lower armour was ruined, but at least she could move now. Garrus protested, but she waved him away and finally stood. She was alright as long as she didn't move; her legs were not strong, and her balance was shaky. Keeping herself upright with a hand on the pillar, she grinned, quite keen to continue the fight.

"This is why I said it was a bad idea two years ago," the turian muttered, though there was no denying the reluctant admiration in his eyes. "You're not a krogan, Shepard."

"Neither are you," she snapped. "I'm alright! It was just a set-back. I didn't think it could flank us."

"That was a bit more than a flanking maneouver," Garrus muttered, glancing out at the massive hole in the platform left by the maw. That wasn't going to be fun to fix. Shepard wobbled, and he straightened her, holding her in place. "It's almost finished, Shepard. Grunt completely snapped one of its arm things, and much of its mouth is ruined. I can cover you, keep out of-"

"Don't coddle me!" she snapped, stepping back, out of his reach. That was a mistake, but she used her biotics to hold her body in place until she could lean against the tower again. Grimacing, she opened one eye at Garrus, who stared at her, his face full of concern. "I am not to be defeated," she said, and he nodded slowly. After holstering his rifle, he reached for her, placing his talon on her upper arm, ignoring her initial, feeble attempt to shake him off. He pulled her towards him, and gently turned her so that her back was pressed against his chest. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he tensed, her armour taking the pressure rather than her more delicate ribs. In one go, he had taken most of the weight from her legs, and therefore removed much of her pain.

"I point, you shoot," he grunted, reaching around to grab her pistol so that his free hand had something easy to fire. She was exhilarated. She did not take any weapon into her own hands, for she had no intention of using a gun. Now, without the concerns of holding her body up, she could unleash biotic fury like never before. Garrus was giving her another chance to win. He was also holding her close, his curved neck bringing his face very close to her own. She wished to feel his breath on her cheek, but she wore her helmet, and that desire was extremely inappropriate. His closeness thrilled her, spurred her on, intensified her heartbeat and pumped her body full of energy.

"Here it comes!" Grunt declared, though there was no indication of _where _it would come; the ground shook with the maw's wrath, disorientating its prey as it chose where to erupt next. "Come on, you worm, face me!" Shepard half-hoped it would reappear in the platform, for her to forcefully turn the tables and prove that she was deadliest in a melee-range battle between herself and a thresher maw, but it was not to be so. The thresher maw did not retreat far, however. The air was once more filled with its terrible screech as it rose, pressing up against the edge of the platform, leaning its distorted and wounded head over the railings and towards its prey. One of its two, arm-like limbs was flapping awkwardly as it flailed and shook, clearly broken. Innumerable droplets of blood sprayed out from its open mouth as it flung itself about, trying to intimidate and scare as it prepared to strike.

With a grunt, Garrus swung them both around, bringing the pistol up to shoot indiscriminately as Shepard shuddered, her body on fire, the first biotic pulse serving as a warning before the true assault. The warp connected with the maw's limp, broken mandible, and caused it to shriek in anger and discomfort. It spat at the culprits, but Shepard combated with a barrage of energy which repelled the acid, forcing it to fall harmlessly to the ground far from its target. She followed with another loosely-aimed warp, and then, as the maw paused to simply roar, she summoned a singularity right inside its gaping, bleeding mouth. It gurgled, the faux-gravity tugging at the lining of its neck, its mouth, its very flesh. Grunt took this chance to run forwards, right for it, singing his rage louder and more passionately than the maw ever could. He discarded the shotgun and reached instead for his grenade launcher.

Screaming with the effort, she sent a warp at the creature, and it caused the singularity to explode with a very satisfying, violent pulsation. The maw cried out and whipped back, broken mouth to the sky, slipping down inside the earth a little. Grunt came to a stop at the edge of the platform, mere feet from the neck of the maw. Placing a massive foot on the railings, he braced himself, and fired the grenade launcher point-blank between two of the ridges on the maw's neck. The projectiles connected and exploded with incredible force, quickly becoming enough to rip right through the armour plating in order to wreak havoc with the flesh underneath. Just when the throat wound was most vulnerable, the launcher stopped firing, clean out of grenades, and Grunt bellowed at the indignity of it.

Shepard thrust her fist towards it, then the other, the first releasing another singularity and the second a potent warp. The force of it pushed her back, forcing Garrus to take a step backwards, and the two biotic balls screamed towards the bloody wound. The singularity had just enough time to spread deep into the puncture before the warp detonated it. The force was enough to send the maw reeling back, the wound now a wide, broken gash in its neck. It tried to scream but its mouth was no longer connected to its lungs, and instead gurgled blood and venom out of the hole in its neck as it toppled. It hit the ground, forcing shudders up their legs just once more, and then was done.

The shock of victory left Shepard feeling more weak than anything. It was fortunate that Garrus was already holding her up, for she could feel the last of the strength sap from her legs, and she let her head fall back against him, eyes closed. She could hear Grunt laughing, revelling in the glory. They had passed the test, and he was now an adult krogan; he was allowed to be happy. There was a faint thud as, she suspected, he headbutted something, unable to express his joy in any other way.

"Come on," said that delicious voice, purring gently into her ear, and she allowed herself to be laid down, eyes still closed, at peace with the pain and aches of her body. She allowed Garrus to remove her helmet and to release some of her armour, particularly the more damaged parts on her legs, so that he could better determine the extent of her delirium and wounds. Compromised armour was no good to anyone, and she would find it easier to move without it. The soothing sensation of medi-gel served to further alienate her discomfort, but she laid quietly, enjoying the attentions. With several pieces of armour either loosened or placed beside her, Garrus then shuffled back up to her head, and gently pulled her into a sitting position. It was only then that she opened her eyes to observe the damage, and though aware that she had come off surprisingly lightly, was still horrified by the mess of flesh and disintegrated underarmour which made up much of her shins and knees. She tore her eyes away to determine Garrus' reaction, but he did not seem to think it was serious. He was watching her closely, gauging her reaction. His head tilted as he saw the uncertainty on her face, and he shook his head to dispel it.

"You've survived far worse, Shepard. Besides, now we match." He flexed his mandibles and turned his head to draw attention to his facial scars. She laughed, though it was a little painful to do so, and brought her hand up to his face. She hadn't meant to do it in such an affectionate way, but she stroked the scar, her fingers leading softly from the back of his jaw down to the tip of his right mandible. Her thumb brushed over his chin just before she let her hand drop, as reluctant as it was to leave him. He did not react to the touch, save for turning his head slightly towards her once she had pulled away, something incomprehensible in his eyes. She took a small pleasure in the way his mandibles twitched in a subconscious manner, until the peaceful silence was spoilt by gunshots.

They were distant; Garrus tensed and pulled away, turning towards the source, but it was no immediate threat. Grunt was nowhere to be seen; presumably he was the cause. Quite sure that Grunt could run into nothing more dangerous than a thresher maw - and he had proven himself against one of those - Shepard was not too concerned, though allowed Garrus to be. Grunt could take care of himself, whatever had befallen him. Without the turian to support her, Shepard leant herself forwards, properly analysing the extent of the damage to her legs, fiddling with the armour and re-sealing the areas that were least mangled. She flexed one leg experimentally, and could feel the extent of the healing the medi-gel had provided. Her skin was bound to scar at least a little, though most of the pain was in the deep parts of her flesh, the more complex areas which needed more than the instant fix of medi-gel. It would do for now, though. She would be able to walk, but wanted confirmation. Without asking, she grabbed the turian's wrist, and with his surprised help managed to rise to her feet again.

Garrus didn't need to say anything to communicate the question. "I'll be fine," she said, and to prove the mobility and restoration of her legs she bent down to reclaim the helmet and pieces of still-useable armour. The rest could be left here as scrap, remainders of a battle for the next warriors to see. "We should check on Grunt." Garrus nodded, his mind clearly in the same place, but they had barely taken two steps when the young krogan appeared, looking nonchalant, his shotgun still smoking from recent use. He seemed more interested in Shepard than explaining himself, and expressed his pride in her wellbeing; it would hardly do for such a soldier as himself to have a weak battlemaster.

"She's made of tougher stuff than you'd expect," Garrus said, and Shepard liked to think there was a touch of fondness in his voice. "For a human, at least."

She thumped him, but he just laughed. Besides, she was more interested in the firefight she had just missed.

"Uvenk," Grunt explained, no respect or care in his voice as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Wanted me to join his clan just because I can kill a worm, so I killed him." And that was that, for he then turned and began to make the return journey, awaiting pickup from the Urdnot krogans who had dropped them off at this remote platform. Shepard shrugged, proud that he could take care of his own mess, and made to walk after him, her legs shaky but useable, at least for now. Garrus held her back, though when she turned to look at him, he seemed to have lost enthusiasm for the interruption, and it took her raising her eyebrows to prompt him to speak.

"Shepard," he said, voice low, more serious than she had been expecting. "I don't-"

"Let's go, Garrus," she said, aware of the likely subject and deeply loathe to talk of it. She had been too free, too delirious with the pain and effects of medi-gel - or so she told herself. Either way, it wasn't worth discussing. She smiled confidently, dissipating his concerns, and they returned to the camp in silence.


	8. Closure for Whom

**8: Closure for Whom**

It was raining.

_"Necessary, Shepard. Thresher maw acid extremely potent, fast-acting. Fortunate medi-gel improved to include standard combative agents. Would not have so simple to restore lower bodily function. Still, will require rest, natural healing, to complete process."_

_The pressure on her thighs was uncomfortable, alien, but she knew it was the lesser of several evils. The braces redistributed the weight, eased the pain from her aching shins and ankles. Mordin had provided several ointments and medicines to aid healing, despite the lingering effects of the acid, all of which would mean that a full recovery could be expected in under a week. Thresher maw attacks were woefully common, but for those who survived the encounter, modern medicine had grown to adapt to it. Shepard would heal with no long-lasting damage._

The rain ran down her visor, distorting her ability to see. The bleak, grimy facility became even more unfriendly and bizarre, straight lines twisting into curves, ghostly shapes forming and vanishing as the water shifted and dribbled down the clear plastic. Shepard hesitated, overcome by an irrational impulse, and actually indulged herself. Releasing the seals on either side of her neck, she slowly removed the helmet, and lifted her clear face to the sky.

_She could have rejected the braces. To be considered a cripple, even if wrongly, was not a tempting idea; she had grown used to the respect people gave her, the way few people underestimated her. A thresher maw had not defeated her, but it had left its mark, and she suffered for her overzealousness. To reject the braces would leave her with one of two options; forced rest and inaction, or stubborn continuation of the mission and ignoring of her wounds. Shepard liked to think she was practical, _sensible_. She chose the right path because it was the right path, not because it was the easy one or the least painful one. Sometimes, death was necessary. Sacrifices had to be made._

_As such, the latter option was not an option; her legs would fail again within days, and she would be permanently damaged._

_Nor could she bring herself to remain still. Shepard was inherently against the notion of inaction. To stay still meant drowning in the filth and misery. To stay still meant to cease being proactive in your survival. To stay still meant you were an easy target._

Commander Shepard had missed the rain.

The large, warm droplets fell against her face like liquid silk, soft and gentle and soothing. Many servicemen missed such weather; space held its own wonders, but there was nothing like the unpredictable harshness of weather, so at odds with the cold, empty, star-spotted expanse of outer space. There was no rain on the Normandy, and her shower was a poor substitute. Earth held few positive sentiments for Shepard, but this was amongst them. She found her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her mood one of quiet rapture. The moment would not last, so she enjoyed it.

Having expected impatience from her companion, she cut her enjoyment short only to discover that it was mutual.

_"I would advise against engaging in combat in your condition," EDI had said, her voice clear of accusation or judgement. The assessment of an AI was without prejudice. "There are several assignments you could complete which have minimal bodily risk involved. Shall I compile a list?"_

_"Yes," Shepard had said, resenting 'her condition' even though she had long accepted it. The hologram flickered with acknowledgement and disappeared. The braces still felt foreign, a constant reminder of her weakness. She did not try to ignore it. To do so would be to forget her own vulnerability - and though she had initially rebelled against such a notion, it had grown on her. Yes, yes, she was mortal, she was fragile, and yet she could do so much. She had done so much. She was reminded of the last minutes aboard the SSV Normandy, and it filled her with an awkward, sad sort of pride. She had done right by them, even though she had died in the progress._

_It was nothing but ignorance to forget she could die._

"This is the right place?" Shepard asked, the sound of her voice harsh in the quiet, natural atmosphere, the only other sound that of constant rain - and the very occasional thunder clap.

Jack nodded, but said nothing. Her eyes were trained on the facility ahead, her expression oddly blank. Shepard had been expecting fury, indignant, rightful rage and hate, but there was nothing. Jack's hands hung limp at her sides, subconsciously unable to decide whether to clench or relax, lash out or hold herself upright. Shepard had underestimated the effect this would have on the woman. Jack had underestimated the effect it would have on herself.

It wasn't the rain, Shepard realised. It had been shallow to think so; Jack's sudden quiet and uncharacteristic thoughtfulness was caused by something much deeper than the weather.

_"I suppose this means Haestrom's out of the question," Shepard had muttered, flickering wistfully through the dossiers. She had planned to locate and recruit Tali after placating Grunt. Working alongside the quarian again would be pleasantly nostalgic; their brief, suspicious reunion in Freedom's Progress had not been the friendly affair Shepard had hoped it to be. Ashley Williams's disgust and distrust had also tugged at Shepard's heartstrings. Fortunately, those encounters did not set the overall tone of reunions: meeting with now clan-leader Wrex had been everything she wanted, but even that was eclipsed by the sheer elation at watching Archangel reveal his identity._

_At least she knew she could always count on one man to remain by her side._

_"We could go to Illium," Miranda had suggested, pointing out that several leads began there. Shepard had rejected it, unable to bring herself to walk in such a populated place as she was. She hated to be underestimated or pitied; for the first time she could truly begin to empathise with Joker._

_"Is there nothing covert that needs doing? I'm not incapacitated, I can do more than shuffle around in a city."_

_"Everything 'covert' generally requires some degree of combat."_

_Shepard shrugged. "I can handle it." She pointed at Tali's name again, tapping the datapad. "Let's go to Haestrom. The geth don't care and Tali won't. Besides, we got this information several days ago, and she may not be there for much longer."_

_"Much the same with Krios and the asari justicar," Miranda rebutted, frowning slightly. "Not to mention several other matters which have been brought to your attention."_

_"Ah," Shepard said, realisation dawning, "that's why you want to go to Illium so badly."_

_Miranda frowned again, but she could not deny it. The news of her sister's endangerment had made the operative twitchy, distracted, and whilst it was refreshing to see that the woman was as human as the rest of them, her inability to concentrate was a serious setback. Her talents had proven invaluable, and the 'rescue' of Mordin's old assistant Maelon had gone perfectly - from a tactical viewpoint, at least. The discovery of his tattered conscience and decision to work with the krogans had rather shaken Mordin. Or, at least, so he said. By the time Shepard had time to discuss the matter, the salarian had already processed and accepted the entire thing. Shepard approved of his decision to kill Maelon. Mordin seemed happier for it, and as such, Shepard was happier for it._

_The same would likely be true for Miranda, upon securing the safety of her sister. Shepard inhaled, considering her options._

Jack had already shown some hesitation, something Shepard hadn't been expecting. She knew that this facility, this planet - Pragia - would rekindle a lot of unhappy memories. Jack's recounting of her past, the trauma and hate and violence, all seemed like hyperbole. To believe it was completely true, that humans were capable of such vile acts - even to their own! - was sickening. Shepard killed, she killed a _lot_, but she didn't torture.

Not unless absolutely necessary - and torturing _children _was _never _necessary.

Shepard had thought her childhood was dark. Compared to Jack's, it was nothing. Empty, quiet, lonely... Jack had had it all, and tenfold. Jack had long since rejected pity, so Shepard didn't waste her time with it. It was more comfortable for both of them that way. Instead, resentment bubbled inside Shepard, reminding her of all the reasons she had to hate, all the terrible things that she had fought against, that she had destroyed. This would be just one more to add to the list.

_Cerberus_.

"Let's just get in there and plant the bomb in my cell. I want to watch this place _burn_."

It seemed Jack was done waiting, done wading in memory at the mere sight and smell and sound of this place. Shepard nodded, and replaced her helmet, ready. Both women exited the landing pad, leaving the calming weather behind, and descended into hell.

_"Shepard, I was wondering if we could follow up on that, ah, matter?"_

_"Which... matter, Garrus? We're drowning in assignments."_

_"Sidonis."_

_"Oh - _that _matter."_

_"I don't think I've made myself clear - I need to find him. You know what happened on Omega. You know what happened to my team. You know I need to collect on what he owes me - my men."_

_"You have enough of a lead from that - turian?"_

_"Yes. I know where we need to go."_

_"It's going to be time-consuming?"_

_"It's important to me. I don't care how long it takes so long as we find him."_

_"I know, I wasn't implying that, it's just that we may not have all the time in the world, Garrus."_

_"All the more reason to get it done soon, then. I don't want it to be a distraction, but I cannot lie to you; it is distracting me. It's so close, Shepard. He's so close. I must have this."_

_"I understand, but we haven't been given this chance just to run our own personal errands."_

_"You helped Doctor Solus, and the krogan. I heard we might be looking into a family complication for Lawson?"_

_"Don't get petty. I need Mordin to have a clear head to ensure our advantage over the Collectors, and Grunt was a time bomb. You should know that better than most. Heh, and now _he _knows better than to spit at turians."_

_"So their loyalty and concentration is worth more? I thought you needed me, too, or why did you come to-"_

_"I - I do! Why are you questioning this? I didn't think I had to doubt your loyalty."_

_"You don't. Of course you don't. But this is important to me."_

_"Don't worry, we'll get it done."_

The fourth beast went down hard, spine broken, dead before it had a chance to yelp. "Fucking varren," Jack spat, the blueness like a coat of electricity on her body, a coating which was mirrored on Shepard. The small pack of varren had been killed without a single gunshot, and not a single mark showed any damage to either woman. In these confined, dark spaces, the vines like thick veins clinging to the walls and ground, one biotic was deadly. Two was unstoppable. It was little surprise that this had once been the training grounds for biotic children, training grounds for biotic _test subjects_, for Subject Zero -

"The Illusive Man requested operation logs again. He's getting suspicious. When we get results, he won't care what we did, but if he knew...

"He won't find out.

"The Illusive Man requested operation logs again. He's getting-" Shepard looked up from the ground, up from the dead varren she had been nudging aside with her foot. Jack was staring darkly at the terminal, her hand over the console. The holo had vanished, the looping message ended. Aware of the fact that this 'evidence' put into question many of Shepard's own prejudices, she nevertheless had to concede that it would mess with Jack's assumptions and conclusions in a far more powerful way. The Illusive Man was an easy target for all of their hatred and distrust, but now?

Resenting her lack of technical expertise, Shepard hovered over the console, but knew that she wouldn't be able to find anything. Jack had stepped away, unwilling to accept it, but it didn't take long for her to comment. From her tone, it was clear that she was trying to validate it, make it mesh with her own version of events, maintain her rage towards Cerberus and the Illusive Man. "They didn't say what they were hiding from him." Shepard didn't disagree, though it was partly because she had no means of proving the situation either way. She wished for Mordin, or, more rightly, Garrus. If this was a fraud, then he would have been able to find out, but Shepard had no way of telling. Any evidence damning Cerberus was welcomed, but this wasn't so black and white anymore.

Jack did not want to believe that anything done here had been done with her interests in mind; proof that the facility experimented on the other kids caused her to seethe, and it took all of Shepard's patience and authoritative might to prevent the woman from succumbing to her fury. Everything about the facility inspired hatred, and before long Shepard detested it too; it was hard not to, faced with all the evidence of evil and heartless actions as they were. There seemed to be a pride in the way Jack pointed out familiar blood stains, as if they were the only good thing about the place - evidence of her destruction, her rebellion, her escape. Her triumph.

"I remember escaping to this room," she muttered, as they crossed into yet another ruined space. "Fighting here." Another terminal sat at the far end, but Jack's eagerness for the truth was waning; nothing she was being told matched her own version of events, and Shepard knew that that bothered the woman immensely. Instead, Jack turned her back on it, glancing at the door they had come through. "I could see sunlight through the cracks in the ceiling. Only a half dead guard between me and freedom.

"He was begging for his life," she said, unable to keep the menace from her tone, gazing at a large, black smear across the tiles.

No further explanation was required.

This foray into Jack's past made Shepard vaguely uncomfortable. The woman had been coldly forthcoming with her history, recounting her misdemeanours with a touch of psychotic amusement and detachment. She had also been blunt about Cerberus' involvement, and that much was impossible to deny - yet it did not feed Shepard's hatred in quite the way she had wanted it to. From the old event logs and data consoles the pair continued to find as they delved deeper into the facility, the story began to clear itself; the Illusive Man had not issued these orders, he had not demanded this treatment, and he had not approved of these measures. That was what the logs said.

Shepard was not stupid. She did not take the word of old, tamperable recordings as law, but if this was a cover-up... it was an extremely efficient cover-up.

Cerberus was an organisation to be abhorred, but it seemed that there were shades of grey even in the darkest walks of life.

As Jack slipped from denial to loathing to simple anger, Shepard followed. She watched the effects of memory and childhood trauma and was surprised. Had she thought Jack would appreciate sympathy and mutual understanding, she may have offered it, for her own childhood had been unpleasant and she had thought to empathise. It was nothing compared to this, though, and to complain now, when faced with the bare-faced truth about Jack, seemed impossibly petty.

It was enough to simply accept and move to the next room. Jack did not seem to want anything more.

_The doors had slid open, and Shepard had had to check herself before walking right into Jacob._

_Mutual surprise had come over both of their faces, though Jacob recovered first, using the opportunity to his advantage. "Ah, Shepard. I wanted to talk to you -"_

_"Right," the commander said, arching an eyebrow, "and the logical place to look for me is Miranda's quarters."_

_Some attempt at innocence flickered through his expression, but it was futile, and Shepard had no patience for it. Let them flirt or fuck or simply frustrate each other in their spare time; it didn't seem to affect their work performance, and Shepard was quite determined not to intervene in private matters more than she had to._

_Hell, at least they were able to do each other. Shepard could envy them that._

_"No," Jacob said, becoming a little defensive - and Shepard could hardly fault him that, her current mood was not friendly - before he sighed, and glanced down. "I'm sorry if I'm a little unfocused, commander. Personal matter. It won't affect my duties."_

_Personal matter. "Come on, Jacob. If it's bothering you, tell me and maybe we can do something about it."_

_There was a flicker of surprise which Jacob failed to hide, and Shepard felt a little angry and ashamed at it. So far, she had made it quite clear that his close affiliations with Cerberus was entirely damning - but ever since her revelations on Korlus, she had decided to be a little more forgiving. She remembered her promise to herself, to end the loneliness and to grow closer to her crew. Miranda had been saving Shepard's life for two years, and Jacob's honesty, though a little much at times, was an admirable quality. It wasn't his fault that the truth was unpleasant - and he hadn't been foolish enough to think that Shepard would be a supporter. He had to get credit for that._

_Just a _little _more forgiving._

_Jacob, just as aware of this as the commander, leant back and crossed his arms. It made him slightly more intimidating, considering just how large those arms were. "Like I said, it's a personal matter. I don't want to waste time if it turns out to be one big goose chase. I got... pinged by a ghost the other night. Family."_

_Shepard knew where this was going, having just completed one talk about family and issues. It still made her somewhat uncomfortable; Shepard was hardly a famous people person. There would have been no need for Yeoman Kelly Chambers otherwise. Garrus had been right, though; she couldn't aide Mordin and Grunt and then ignore the rest. Jacob had been right too, in one of their past conversations; this was, potentially, a suicide mission. Everybody had a right to some closure._

_Why was it always the same damn thing, then? At least Grunt had been placated by just killing shit._

_Of course, that had resulted in the braces which supported her legs, so perhaps she oughtn't be so thankful for it._

_Aw, hell, who was she kidding; it had been fucking fantastic._

_This conversation, on the other hand, was making both participants uneasy; Jacob hardly wanted to discuss personal issues out here in the corridor, and Shepard didn't really want to discuss it at all. "I get it, Jacob. Forward the details to EDI, and I'll get back to you on it. I think we've both got to be elsewhere right now." Jerking her thumb over her shoulder, back towards Miranda, she laughed at the mild surprise on Jacob's face and shrugged it away. They could do what they liked._

_Good for them._

"All subjects but Zero are expendable! Keep Jack alive!"

"That's not right," Jack spat, swiftly silencing this console as she had done with several others before it. None of them meshed with her version of the truth. "I broke out when the guards disappeared - I started that riot."

Too many times had Shepard seen her deny the words of the security logs. Too many times she had nothing constructive to say. Jack sneered and snarled at the commander because it seemed useless to do so at a hologram, and Shepard was strong enough to take it. At least the woman knew better than to lash out, because as strong as Jack was, Shepard was potentially a match for her. They had not come very armed - Shepard had chosen only to bring her heavy pistol - but they both sported the same implants and the same techniques.

The only thing which varied was the training, and Shepard had long begun to wonder if Jack's, whilst morally questionable, was superior.

Shepard hadn't thought about the biotic period of her upbringing for a long time. She hadn't wanted to, but now, witnessing the horrific extent of Jack's, she wondered if she had any right to feel pain over it at all. It hadn't been that bad; she'd just been a kid, that's all.

Jack had just been a kid, too.

"The other kids attacked me," the woman snarled, her paranoia and aggression pushing her to lash out, to try and justify it all. "The guards attacked me. The automated systems attacked me. _That doesn't leave lots of room for interpretation_." Shepard glanced pointedly at the finger Jack had jabbed in her direction, and turned her head slightly, dangerously. Jack sneered with all too much forced malice and dropped it, forgetting the holo and stomping off through the next door.

Shepard lingered, trying to suppress the curiosity bubbling inside of herself. Curiosity - about Jack, about Cerberus, about herself and her own past. Jack had thought she knew so much, but was discovering that she knew very little at all. Shepard thought she remembered her childhood, her thirty years, but how much did she know really? If a truth as simple as _Cerberus is full of bastards _could turn out to be so questionable, then what else could she question?

Her whole life was a stereotype, an icon, and she knew it. Sometimes, she thrived from it. The only way she could do what she did and get away with it was to be something more than mortal, something legendary...

But what kind of legend can die? What kind of legend needs _braces _to walk?

This was about Jack, but she wanted no sympathy, so Shepard could do nothing but fall into a pit of personal questions.

_No sooner had Shepard reached the galaxy map when Yeoman Chambers piped up, all friendly and chirpiness as usual. Shepard, who had wanted nothing more than to find something to kill, wasn't really ready for it. Then again, Kelly always had something to report, and her presence was almost becoming normal. Still, the original Normandy had functioned just fine without her._

_There were times when she proved useful, of course. Shepard had never told the yeoman how her 'diary' exploits had turned out, because that was entirely too personal, and she didn't want to encourage any psychoanalysis. She did enough of that on herself, and it was very far from satisfying._

_"Hey, commander. You've got unread mail, and Jack wanted to speak to you."_

_"Jack wants to speak to someone?" She didn't hold back the gentle laughter as she crossed over to her personal terminal, fingering the commands and bringing up the message system. "Are you sure you heard right?"_

_"Well, it's what I assumed," Kelly replied light-heartedly, "judging from the way she was ranting and raving and demanding you tore this place apart."_

_"Sounds like the usual," Shepard quipped, noting she had three unread messages._

_"I think you should go see her. You're the only person she can talk to reasonably; I'd try, but frankly, she scares me. Her psyche report didn't exaggerate at all, I-"_

_"Aww, Morlan!" Shepard laughed, tapping the screen, grinning at Kelly. "I wouldn't be insulted by anonymous spam, but he tried to sell me dick enhancements when I met him face to face on the Citadel two years ago, too. Dumbass salarian! Ha!"_

_Kelly seemed stunned by the entirely unrelated interruption, and frowned. "Commander, you're not being serious at all. If you don't talk to Jack there's a good chance her lack of control will cause some real damage - and if not to the ship, then to a crew member."_

_Knowing she was right, Shepard closed the mail system with a brief sigh and turned to look at the yeoman, who stared stubbornly back at her. "She wants to talk to me, you said?"_

_"That's what I said."_

_"And you think it's a personal matter?"_

_"I hadn't said - well, yes, I do."_

_Pressing the bridge of her nose with a finger, Shepard pushed away from the terminal, towards the elevator. "Okay, I'm going - but if it turns out to be about her 'long lost twin sister', there really is going to be a crew casualty, and I'm going to enjoy it."_

The explosion was glorious.

Jack was quiet.

The entire thing had gone without a hiccup, and there would soon be nothing left of the facility save for rubble and scorched earth. Even the heavy rain wasn't enough to quench the fires which seemed to draw intensity from the hatefulness of the building it devoured. The shuttle drew Shepard and Jack away quietly, quickly, just as quickly as Jack began to draw into herself.

There had been no life there, nothing but cold walls and security logs, unless you counted the varren. They were just vermin, vermin who lived in the lonely remains of a facility designed by vermin. There were no signs of the children who had once lived and died there; the suffering was just an echo, all in Jack's head, played out in soft words as she had relived it. Shepard could remember the expression on Jack's face as she had drawn her fingers across the mirror, the _two-way mirror_, honestly surprised by the realisation that no - the other kids had never seen her screaming at them.

Had Shepard not been positive that there was nothing left in Jack to crack, she may have believed that something else snapped that moment.

"I can't believe that shit's done." The words were tiny, breathy, and Shepard had to do a double-take just to realise that she hadn't heard wrong. Jack was staring at the detonator, her thumb still pressed firmly on the button. Her hand was shaking - it was slight, so slight, but it was shaking, and there was something... fragile in the rigid way Jack sat, as if anything could break her at this moment. She had just destroyed her childhood, her ruined black hole of a childhood, and was unable to keep it from affecting her.

Shepard didn't know what to say. Had she been closer to Jack, she may have... but no, physical comfort was never something that had been welcomed. Comfort of any kind had never been welcomed. Jack licked her lips, still unable to tear her eyes from her thumb, visibly desperate to keep herself under control. Shepard wondered if she had ever been so emotionally overwhelmed. Everything they had witnessed in that hellhole suggested that Jack had been trained to keep her morals and feelings tucked deep away as trivial, unimportant things - and now that the hellhole was gone, so were the barriers and defences. Jack had nothing left to hide.

Besides, Shepard's head was full of her own thoughts. Through the fear and surprise, she could see the euphoric effect this little exercise was having on Jack. Being able to truly take your demons by the horns and _make them submit_, it was a powerful feeling. Shepard felt foolish to compare her demons to Jack's, but we cannot all have been dealt the worst hand in life. We all have our own problems. Shepard was overcome by a desire to know how much of her own present, how much of her own dilemmas were shaped by her own past, her little mediocre hellhole. Would she gain as much closure from its unravelling and destruction as Jack had? Would it benefit anyone? The past had already come back to greet her, but Ellun had been nothing but a pleasant, useful factor so far. Shepard was hesitant to go further back. Life before the Tenth Street Reds... _I'm a dangerous bitch,_ Jack had said, _but this... it makes me feel like a little girl again_.

Even in the roomy shuttle, it felt cramped, awkward. Shepard turned her head to give them both some privacy.

The two women did not speak again during their return, though Shepard knew that they would have to discuss this before long. It had had too much of an impact on Jack to let slide without another mention, and, in a way, it had had too much on an impact on Shepard herself. In many ways, Jack was stronger than Shepard, more vicious, but also more vulnerable; Shepard had never let her past eat at her and twist her every move. But now Jack was free, as free as she could ever be, and Shepard envied her for that.

Besides that, Jack had been pleasant company, if such a trip could warrant that descriptor. Shepard found herself keen to help the woman, in whom she saw an odd kind of kinship. However, Shepard was no more a counsellor than Jack was a weakling, and knew that to help Jack she had to let her be. A Kelly-type approach would not work here. Shepard was no Kelly.

The shuttle door opened, and Jack dropped from her seat and moved out immediately, heading straight for the elevator. Shepard waited a moment before leaving it, taking the time to loosen the fastenings to her armour. The suit hadn't been necessary; the varren had never gotten close enough to attack, and there had been nobody else there, but Shepard always wore it. It did not take long to be back in her more comfortable - but less comfort_ing_ - casual attire, and she left the armour in its rack. It had taken longer than usual thanks to the braces, but she had to begrudgingly admit that they had been exceptionally useful. Mordin was, as always, right.

It was not long before she was back at the galaxy map, though she could not concentrate on it. They could not remain at Pragia, but Shepard was indecisive. It did not, however, take long to make up her mind, upon hearing the gentle swoosh of the elevator doors behind her; turning to look, she saw the ever-familiar profile of her turian, and knew which promise she had to keep next.

Garrus dipped his head respectfully in her direction before continuing towards the Armoury. Moments later, Joker had been given the coordinates, and they were en route.

En route to the Citadel, of all places. Shepard would not have wanted to return there for anything less than the necessity of helping a dear friend.

Now stood at the map, she was once more without anything to do; her past experience still filled her mind, overwhelming her, but it was far too soon to speak with Jack, who would need much more time than Shepard to acclimatise herself with the event. As such, Shepard chose to retreat to her quarters, perhaps to her 'diary', to consider things. As was customary nowadays, however, there was always an interruption; upon reaching her quiet quarters, EDI's blue hologram popped up.

"Operative Taylor has uploaded the details of the Hugo Gernsback to me, Shepard. Do you wish to access them now?"

Operative Taylor, Jacob, _Cerberus_. Shepard remembered their conversation, and felt an unexpected sting. She had brushed him off, so smug with herself for considering the help of a Cerberus lackey, but now, now she had potential proof that Cerberus wasn't everything she had thought it was. The Illusive Man was no saint, but he wasn't the devil, and Jacob Taylor was certainly capable of no evil. His honesty, that blunt honesty...

Shepard was probably guilty of worse than he.

"Yes," she said, but had no read much when she realised this was wrong. Her eyes lingered over the word _father_, and though she felt an uncontrollable spike of irritation at the fact that this was truly another family-matter, she had no right to be angry at it; just because _she_ had no family didn't mean she had to hate everybody else for it. Just because it was alien to her did not mean it was alien to everyone else.

Still, it was wrong, reading it like this. Jacob was Cerberus, but Cerberus was no longer the darkest shade of black, and Jacob was not the enemy. Replacing the datapad on the table, she once more made her way to the elevator.

Jacob's face was one of surprise when she walked in. "Tell me about the Gernsback." He deserved to have this conversation face to face.

"Tell me how I can help."


	9. Losing It

**9: Losing It**

"I've told you before, Shepard, that I'll defer to your judgement in such matters. I still thought I'd make my concerns known."

"Appreciate it," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

The Illusive Man's hologram took another leisurely inhale, watching Shepard closely. "You don't need to look at me like that. I just wanted you to be aware of the dangers. You know that your wellbeing is my priority, and as such, I feel you should know I would discourage getting too close to anyone. It detracts from your focus and could have some unpleasant consequences. Such matters are easily exploited, should they fall upon the wrong ears. This isn't a game, Shepard."

If Ellun Rogers hadn't already been established as the topic of conversation, Shepard might have been concerned that the Illusive Man suspected 'fraternization' rather closer to home - and she didn't mean Jacob and Miranda, but herself and... well. No such thing was happening, of course - she knew that all too well - but this slippery bastard knew far too much about things he had no business knowing.

That gave Shepard an idea, but she would have to attend to the matter at hand first.

"I was under the impression it was a game," she said casually, folding her arms. "I am just having so much fun, what with the homicidal team mates, emotional baggage, and oh, let us not forget our enemies! I do like the Collectors and their freakish creations - I did_ so miss _the husks - and threshers just mix it up a bit, you know." She gestured lightly at her legs, still supported with the bracers, and gave a broad, fake smile. The smile was followed swiftly with her middle finger. "I know what I'm doing! What happened to all that 'we need Shepard just the way she got squirted out' stuff? You picked me for a reason. I'm getting this shit done. The base at Korlus is a useful resource, and Rogers is a useful connection. It's not like I'm handing out VIP passes to him and friends. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but that doesn't mean I need to treat him like an enemy. Get off my back and let me deal with this. It's not my fault you're taking fucking ages to get a new lead."

"It's not as simple as that," he replied carefully, the fresh holographic smoke from his cigar obscuring his holographic face. "The Collectors are careful, and now they know you're after them. We have to be strategic. You can trust that I am using everything at my disposal, and you will be the first to know when we have something to work with. Plus," he added lightly, "we both know you could throw the man quite an impressive distance." She ignored the quip.

Normally, that would have been the end of that; Shepard hardly expected more from him, but there _was _one thing further he could do for her, and thus instead of step out of the range of the holo without a word, she lingered. The Illusive Man noticed this curiosity, and waited silently for Shepard to explain it.

"You're right; you do have a lot of connections. I want you to use them for me." A gentle puff of holographic smoke indicated he was listening. Shepard tried to hide the faint shiver of unease, and pressed on. She had only recently decided to pursue this interest - and it was a tenuous decision; she didn't want to lose confidence now. "I want you to find out what my official personal files don't show. They only go as far back as '71, when I first get tangled up in the Alliance. I can remember before that, but not - not as well as I want."

There was silence for a full half minute as the Illusive Man just sat there, giving no reaction but to leisurely put out his cigarette. Shepard stood tall, head high, fighting the discomfort which came with baring her most personal wishes to a man she disliked so much. But he was right, of course, he was right; he did use 'everything at his disposal', and he definitely had a considerable amount at his disposal. Shepard was sure he would find nothing to use against her. It was all personal, silly; interesting to herself only.

At least, she couldn't recall anything which could be used to blackmail. Was she making a big mistake?

"I didn't take you as soft, Shepard," he said, finally, only the faintest touch of amusement lining his tone. "Is there a significant reason you want this information, or is it just a whim? I didn't think you the emotional crusader type."

"This is a suicide mission," she said dryly, "or so the implication goes. My crew are all finding ways to settle old scores, lay a few skeletons to rest. It seems to help them concentrate."

"Are you sure you don't just want a good therapist? There is a reason I hired Chambers."

Shepard narrowed her eyes, uncomfortable with the amusement in his manner. "I don't need a cushy sofa and meaningful _chat_. I can deal with my own problems. I just want the facts."

"I'm not sure I understand your motives, Shepard, but I'll see what I can do if it helps to placate you." The conversation promptly ended, the holograms fading away, saving the Illusive Man from the snarl which Shepard had shot at him. Maybe that all _had _been a mistake, but it was committed now; either he would find nothing, and the point was moot, or he would uncover something interesting, and she would benefit from it. Just let him try to take advantage of her; she'd show him she wasn't some toy for his enjoyment.

Though, perhaps she was being paranoid and he had taken her request seriously. In any case, there was no point in getting worked up; there was still so, so much to do.

The fact that returning to the Citadel was included in that list did not please Shepard in the slightest.

There had been a curious lack of security checks on their docking; she had been sure that some red flags would have risen at the Normandy's name and documented ownership. This wasn't an Alliance vessel, it was a Cerberus one, and Shepard was slightly disappointed that it was so simple to land. She hadn't known such organisations to be welcome at the Citadel in the past. Just how much had changed in the last two years? Of course, there was the possibility that the SR2's true identity was cleverly concealed, but that still begged the question as to the ease of their docking. It seemed preposterous for security to have loosened since the geth wreaked their destruction upon it. Standing in the door of the shuttle, Shepard hesitated, glancing back at the lockers which contained all their armours. Well, her own contained very little at this moment; it had been customary for her to wear her full suit on the Citadel, and that hadn't changed. The one thing she had never taken was her helmet. It would have pushed the border between military presence and civilian presence; it was just too formal. She liked to be able to look people in the eye when they were talking to her. She liked people to look directly in her eye, and dare them to bullshit her.

Today, she didn't want anybody to look at her face. For once, she didn't want the recognition.

"Are you alright?" Garrus was already seated, impatient but forcing himself to be patient for her, and she didn't turn her head back to nod. She didn't want to delay this, for his sake, and therefore made the decision; taking the three wide steps required, her locker was opened and her helmet retrieved. The shuttle door was pulled shut after her as she quickly sat, ready, and tapped on the communicator in her ear.

"All ready, Joker, send us out. See you in two days."

"Roger that, commander. Have fun!"

Garrus shifted a little in his seat, turning his face to regard Shepard more clearly with one eye. She pretended not to notice. "Two days? I thought we were only meant to stay a few hours. Has something happened?"

"Turns out the Citadel has a policy about turning over unregistered vehicles in too short a time. Either we leave the Normandy here for the duration, which would require paper work in its own right, or it returns again in 48 hours, minimum." Their balance was shifted ever so slightly as the shuttle left the confines of the Normandy bay. "Personally, I prefer getting stuff done, so it's leaving, and they're heading to the Omega Nebula. Miranda should be able to secure the merc's services in that time, and since they're dropping by Omega, Mordin said he wanted to visit the clinic."

"Two days," Garrus repeated slowly, shifting his gaze to the thick windows. It was almost unusual to have a view of calm civilisation, and be a part of traffic once more. The closest they had come to that was the unregulated and incoherent systems of Omega itself. Landing on Tuchanka had been like landing in a warzone.

"Two days," Shepard said, watching him. Was that a problem? She felt an annoying, foreign flutter of anxiety as she wondered if he disliked the idea of spending that much time with her. Why should she care if he did, anyway? "We don't know how long it'll take to get this done, so it gives us plenty of time. Don't want to rush it. Your lead isn't exactly the most detailed."

"It was all I could get," he said, a little defensively, prompting Shepard to re-think her wording. "It'll be enough."

"I'm sure it will, Garrus. I just don't want to risk cocking it up, and I thought you'd appreciate being able to be careful."

As was so often the case with turians, the look he gave her was indecipherable. "I do. Thank you."

The shuttle came to a halt, and Shepard's gaze was drawn back outside. She could see several other similar shuttles landing or leaving, and was again amazed at how different things were. Still, if the security elsewhere was lacking, then at least this was improved somewhat; no longer did she have a direct elevator trip directly into C-Sec. If Garrus noted the difference, he didn't comment on it; she was left to wonder how many times he'd returned here since her death as the doors opened and Shepard swiftly pulled her helmet into its rightful place. She was now as good as anonymous; just right.

The scene had definitely changed; Shepard wasn't used to being such a stranger to the Citadel. It was oddly reassuring. As she and Garrus took their places in the back of a very short queue, she allowed her eyes to wander. A noisy Gunnery Chief was lecturing on the laws of physics, which brought a wry smile to Shepard's lips. When she turned about to share the fun with Garrus, she saw him watching the desk closely. She followed his gaze.

"-remove any biotic amp you might be wearing."

A turian was leaning on the desk, aggressively pushing his face towards the human customs officer. To her credit, she remained very calm and entirely unperturbed. Even though they couldn't see his face, it was easy to tell the turian was aggravated. "What! Why?"

"Unfortunately, sir, biotics can be used as a weapon. The rules require me to confiscate all amps. Could you please hand over yours?"

"I don't have one," the turian snarled, "I'm not a biotic!"

Shepard and Garrus glanced at each other. She was acutely aware of the amp in her own head, at the base of her skull, and he had probably had a similar thought regarding it. "This is going to be interesting," she muttered.

"Oh," the customs officer continued, a little taken aback. "When you objected, I thought-"

"You humans are all racist!" the uptight turian spat, causing Garrus to shake his head and the hanar waiting between them to glow a little, presumably with impatience.

"Calm down," the turian security guard said, and when it had little effect, he forcefully repeated himself. "Are you going to be trouble?"

"I'm not the problem!" the troublemaker said indignantly, and though Shepard was far from surprised at the poor handling of the situation, it seemed to be affecting Garrus in a rather rapid way. He fidgeted, glancing about aimlessly, clearly desperate for the troublesome turian to get a move on.

"Yes, you are. Do as you're told or leave."

"You can't do that! Just because I'm from Galatana doesn't mean you can discriminate! Stop being colonist. You're as bad as the humans!"

The security guard didn't seem to know how to react to that, taking a few moments to consider the turian's stupidity. Shepard snorted, amused by how little the Citadel had changed. Was it any wonder she hadn't missed this place? Once more, though, Garrus' reaction was a little more aggressive; raising his voice, he tried to make himself visible over the hanar - and when that inevitably failed, just leant out of the queue. "Come on, buddy, keep it moving. Some of us don't have all day." The troublesome turian looked appalled to be treated in such a manner, and when his initial search of support from the security guard was understandably ignored, he turned around to get a better look at his aggravator. It didn't take long before the indignation continued.

"Yeah, we don't! It's not my fault these aliens are messing me around! But who are you to-"

"Just get on with it, you idiot!" Garrus snapped, to Shepard's surprise, which only served to incense the turian more.

"You can't talk to me like that!" he squealed, now looking to the weary customs officer for support. When he found there was no help to be had, he started to become nasty. "It's none of your business! Fucking inbred Palaven bitch."

"This one objects to such language," the hanar commented weakly, and Shepard almost agreed. She also sympathised with it being stuck in the middle of two warring turians. Garrus just bristled, and then clearly resorted to turian below-the-belt tactics.

"Yeah, keep flapping them, fringeless prick."

The turian squealed again, torn between fury and anguish. It took a restraining hand from the security guard and a matching one from Shepard to stop the two turians from charging forwards - with no apparent regard for a very concerned hanar - and engaging in what would be feral conflict, judging by the sounds Garrus had started to make. Utterly taken aback by how much he had let this affect him, Shepard tried and failed to shove him back. In the end, she settled for planting herself in front of him, and was suddenly very glad to be in her full armour. He glared at her, but would have seen nothing in return save for had that mercifully stoic helmet visor.

"Holy shit, Garrus, what are you doing? Get a fucking grip, this is _the _last place I want to draw attention - and I've been stuck in a room with Joker and a copy of Fornax." His intense agitation was thoroughly thwarted by that mental image, and she watched him relax, bemused and distracted.

"That was a little extreme," he chastised gently, but was now considerably calmer. The other turian had required more forceful kinds of restraint, but was no longer a hurdle; though he audibly grumbled, his entry into the Citadel was swift, and Shepard was quite willing to see the back of him. It was extremely unsettling to have witnessed the effect of one annoying man on Garrus, who was normally so cocky and cool, and she realised that she didn't truly understand the extent to which this whole Sidonis matter really troubled him. With all these other matters to attend to, as well as her pointed ignoring of her own unwanted, amorous feelings, she hadn't really contemplated it much. That was all perfectly fine, but that moment was hardly the right time to stop and correct it; the hanar had practically gotten through customs and now they had the interesting matter of tackling it themselves. Clearly bearing full combat armour and armed to the teeth, with Garrus and his offensively-upgraded omni-tool and Shepard so pumped up with biotics it was practically in her blood, it didn't make for an attractive prospect.

"I'll have to hold your weapons here, ma'am," the customs officer was saying, and Shepard suddenly realised that the hanar _was _done and it was her turn. She blinked, though, helmeted as she was, the expression would have been lost on the officer. When she didn't react, the officer prompted her with "it's policy." She could see the turian security eyeing them closely, presumably waiting for Garrus - or herself - to cause more trouble. Well, Shepard thought, he probably won't have to wait long.

"I don't care," was her blunt, honest reply, her standard retort when security of some kind had tried to take her guns. "I'm-"

"It's okay," Garrus interrupted, gently pushing past her in order to slide something onto the table. "Everything is taken care of." The customs officer looked at it, surprised, then raised a suspicious eye at the turian before taking the datachit and slotting it into her computer terminal. A few moments later, she'd nodded at the security guard, who consequently gestured at the door to the Citadel.

"Thank you for visiting," the customs officer said politely, handing back the chit. Garrus took it with a nod, and then encouraged Shepard to move on for the queue had continued to form slowly behind them.

Shepard, who had no idea what was going on, stared pointedly at Garrus, who ignored her in order to bustle her along towards their next hurdle. His manner was entirely changed, and though she intensely disliked this sudden desire to keep her in the dark, she remembered to use that Joker line again in the future. In a way, though, his calm was too controlled, and turian expressions were hard enough to read as it was without him pointedly avoiding any kind of eye contact. The second level of security was concluded in much the same fashion, involving business and agreements which Shepard was entirely ignorant to. No sooner had the turian officer opened his mouth to express surprise at his scan coming up with 'Person Deceased' had Garrus offered him this mysterious datachit. All was thus explained, it seemed. Shepard didn't even have the opportunity to say 'and I'd like to stay dead' before they were past security and inside the Citadel.

"What the hell was all that?" She grabbed his arm, tugging him about to a slightly less conspicuous part of the 'highstreet'. She didn't even have time to marvel at how different the Citadel was - not that she had fond memories to spoil. "When did you get a 'get out of jail free' card?"

He tilted his head slightly. "We didn't go to jail."

"No, I - nevermind. What is it?"

Rather than tell her, the turian simply brought it out and offered it to her. Eyeing him curiously, Shepard took it, activating her omni-tool and swiping the chit across it. Most of what sprang up was beyond her, clearly going in-depth regarding security permissions and their 'undercover, classified' duties. Shepard had only perused it for a few seconds when she looked back up at Garrus, incredulous, and saw the amusement on his face. At least he wasn't raging anymore, but this really wasn't much better. "Turns out working with Cerberus isn't so bad after all," he said casually, if quietly, taking back the chit and storing it. "I don't think I've enjoyed this level of security clearance since I was C-Sec. Actually, I've never had this level of clearance."

"Why wasn't I told about this? Wait - is this why we had no trouble getting into Citadel space?"

He nodded, chuckling, the noise like a gentle rumble in his chest. "I didn't realise you had no idea. I thought something must have been mentioned. It's probably because you - ah," he hesitated, sensing rather than seeing the murder on her face, "lack a certain subtlety? It was obviously decided you were better suited to other... ah..."

There was a moment of pause. Shepard tried to see the logic - and humour - in the situation. They did have to spend two days together; who would have thought she would be the one regretting this idea? "Well, in that case, I'm glad I have you with me, _Archangel_, master of subtlety." (nice)

He chose not to respond to that obvious taunt, save for huffing in his arrogant, dismissive way - a thing which made Shepard grin, as she knew he would take all manner of provocation from her - and then, finally, her attention turned to the Citadel. It had changed. Superfluously, that was understandable; the last time she had been here, repairs were still young, and it was looking more like a bombsite than a civilised station. She could clearly remember finding a piece of the Mako and just holding it, giving the entire disaster the respect it deserved. It had been a mess, but they had won. They had won, and what had come of it? Sovereign's identity was denied en mass, even if its existence wasn't; it was difficult to refute the massive ship's presence during the battle. Every single conscious organism on the station had seen it. How could they all have been duped into believing it was a geth vessel when it clearly didn't look anything like one? ...Though, to be fair, the majority of _ordinary _citizens hadn't had close contact with the geth. She couldn't help the egotistical overtone. In her opinion she was one of the privileged few, and would not succumb to the stupidity and ignorance imposed by such organisations as the Council - she thus was forced to temporarily overlook the fact that she had traded one potentially blinkered boss for another, but as flawed as he was, the Illusive Man at least seemed to recognise the bigger issues. Past conflict with the Council was one of the reasons she was so loathe to return here. Shepard tried to pull herself back into the present, look down the streets of now rather than then, of the old streets and faces she remembered. It felt so much more formal, so commercial, and she wasn't sure it was a good change. One thing was for certain; in this Citadel, Shepard's name wasn't commonplace anymore. She was dead. She was forgotten.

Despite all her previous beliefs that she enjoyed the attention and the idol-worship, as fake as much of it had seemed, the idea that she might actually be able to walk down the middle of the station without her helmet and not be stopped for some reason was... well, that was an incredibly liberating notion. Maybe she had never truly wanted to be anyone's idol. For all her crassness and lack of delicacy, she did just want to do her job, and that job did have noble intent. Succeeding was reward enough.

It was still strange to be back, to be here, but at least they had business to use as distraction. At least she was here with a friend. Casting her mind back to the conversation they had shared before reaching the Citadel, Shepard began to walk, Garrus following automatically despite being the one who knew where they had to go. It was easy to fall into usual habits. "You said you've set up a meeting?"

"Yes, with Fade."

Choosing to ignore the menace in his tone, Shepard pressed on. "The guy who makes people disappear, right?" Garrus, in his turn, smiled at the mockery. She allowed herself a brief laugh, but now her mind was turning over the more business side of things. They had two days, only two days, and a weak lead. This wasn't a blaze-in and blaze-out job - which, to be honest, were her forté. She would just have to trust Garrus knew what he was doing.

That was a foolish thought. Of course she trusted him.

"We have around 20 minutes," Garrus continued, briefly consulting his omni-tool. "We need to get to the warehouse."

"The warehouse? It's as vague as that, huh? You know where that is?" She paused to glance around, still enthralled by how strange and new the Citadel had become. She recognised next to nothing. "Everything looks so _different_."

He was silent for a moment - thoughtful, even. "We haven't all been dead two years." That checked her.

Before long, Garrus had taken control of their aimless wandering and directed them both towards the warehouse, where Fade was said to be waiting. Since he had only expected to be on-station for a few hours, their 'appointment' arrived swiftly, and to nobody's surprise they ended up in front of a volus. _Looks can be deceiving_, Fade said, but Shepard scoffed at that. What was deceiving about a volus? She was yet to meet one who didn't die easily - and as for their habits, when did you ever see a dirty matter go without the helping hand of one of the rats? Despite being flanked by two bored, young krogan, the volus didn't seem that confident. Swift and hard 'encouragement' would work best here, but as she had done with Jack before him, Shepard decided to hang back and allowed Garrus to take centre stage. This was all for him, after all, though she did feel slightly uneasy when she noticed his aggravation and lack of patience was swiftly returning. In order to distract herself, Shepard idly wondered how long it would take to kill both the bodyguards.

"So, which one of you wants to disappear?" the volus said, trying to be coy. _Could probably shoot both._

"I'd rather see you make someone reappear," Garrus crooned, demonstrating a far more effective display of confidence. _Be more dramatic to break their spines._

"Ah... that's not the service we provide." And there it was, the crack in his coolness. The volus fidgeted, almost glancing back at his guards. _Wonder if a singularity would work in a krogan neck?_

"Make an exception just this once," the turian growled, and Fade flinched back, any remnants of confidence ruined. _Probably need softening up first._

Garrus pointedly toyed with the hilt of his rifle, unwilling to draw it in this semi-public space but entirely happy to make the suggestion. Fade understood plenty. "Dammit! Shoot them!" he hissed at the krogan, who jerked awake, almost surprised at having to fulfill their role. Shepard had enough time to wonder why he had hired such useless protection before she thrust her palm forwards and one of the krogan's heads briefly shone blue before imploding. Her mind had already been so full of their death that the immediate reaction surprised even Garrus. The remaining krogan, who had hesitated long enough to observe his newly deceased compatriot slump to his knees, only had to glance at the bottom of the pistol the human was pointing at him in order to decide which course of action was best for his survival. Gobsmacked at the loss of his fellow, the krogan lowered his shotgun, and Shepard dipped her head approvingly.

"What... what the hell was that?" Though perhaps as stunned as the krogan, Fade was considerably more conscious and afraid of his own imminent fate. "You're not getting paid for this!" That was rather wasted on the dead krogan, which the volus quickly addressed, muttering: "what's the point of hiring protection if they won't protect you?" Shepard snorted. _Amateur_. After that apt introduction, it seemed necessary to return this meeting to its purpose.

"We're looking for someone - a client of yours," Shepard said casually, surprised to see a disapproving expression from Garrus. She had just prevented a potential fight, hadn't she? The heat of irritation pricked the back of her neck. They weren't to know the two krogan were limp dicks. Almost as if he were reluctant to do so, the turian abandoned the hilt of his rifle, obviously deciding that enough brute force had been used. Shepard wasn't convinced that enough had been used. By now, the volus was practically quivering.

"Not mine," he said, defeated, rounded shoulders hunched. "I'm not Fade - I just work for him. Sort of."

That revelation did absolutely nothing to improve Garrus' temper, though he did his best to compose himself. Bringing himself down to the volus' level, he lowered his voice to a soft growl. "Well, then maybe you'd like to tell us where to find him."

The volus looked up at Garrus, but Shepard didn't quite wait long enough; she wasn't convinced that enough pressure had been applied yet, and who was to guarantee an honest answer from a semi-frightened talker? They simply didn't have time for a goose chase, and cowardly as volus often were, they were also incredibly slippery. "And if you don't," she added helpfully, aiming one clean pistol shot at the knee of the second krogan, punching through his flimsy armour and wrecking the bone.

The krogan cried out in surprise and anguish, the volus began to hastily speak -"Y-yes, of course! He's in the fa-", then everything went very, very wrong.

Though her methods were harsh, Shepard had only had the best intentions; she had felt that demonstrating their contentment with committing acts more painful than mere homicide would encourage the volus to speak more freely, as it were. Unfortunately, the laws of physics foiled her; the heavy krogan went to clutch his ruined knee, and the error in Shepard's target became apparent. Without one leg, the krogan had no easy way of remaining upright - and luck was not on Garrus' side today. The krogan wavered for a tiny moment and then toppled, unable to hold himself, overwhelmed with pain and surprise. His only comfort was the fact that he had a soft landing, but this comfort was not shared by anyone else.

"-ctttttt," the volus wheezed, his last sentence unfinished, crushed as he was by a ton of krogan meat. The softer part of his enviro head covering billowed momentarily as air and displaced body juices rushed to it, and then was still.

Stunned, Shepard glanced at Garrus, who slowly looked back. His expression said it all.

_Shit_.

* * *

"Uh, Garrus? We need to decide what to do now. We... Garrus?"

With the accidental and absurd murder of the only easy lead, they were left with a very literal dead end. Shepard had managed to flatten their only lead, and whilst she was detached enough to appreciate the ridiculousness, Garrus was a long way from seeing any humour in it at all. With a newly blank - but not necessarily clean - slate, they had been forced to retreat and rethink their strategy. With no Normandy to pull back to, Shepard had managed to find a fairly quiet hotel with a restaurant. Eating was far from a priority, but it helped them to look like normal citizens - armour and weapons excluded, but even that did not make them stand out as much as she had expected. Their internal body clocks were running late times, and as little sleep as they tended to survive on onboard the Normandy, she could tell that any attempt to progress would likely be extremely time consuming. This hunch was borne from the fact that Shepard had little to no idea what to do next, and Garrus was about as forthcoming with his thoughts as the Illusive Man. Indeed, he rarely spoke at all, and when he did it was merely to mutter vehemently to himself. Shepard had stopped trying to catch these quiet words; they tended to just prick at her usually stable conscience.

"So _close_. I _had _him."

She pretended not to hear, though wished that he could have gotten over this by now; it had been all well as a means to keep people from prying into their business, for a quietly raging turian was an intimidating thing to most any species, but he had persisted all the way to the quiet table in the dining area. She sorely regretted not choosing a more noisy establishment; they made for more tempting targets of nosy folk when there was little alternative. Still, she said nothing, aware that she was very far from desired company at that point and that nothing she could think of saying had helped. Repetition was not useful in this situation. The idea of ordering an improvement in behaviour was more than tempting, but she had to begrudgingly admit that she was witnessing a fraction of Garrus' anger and torment - and, in this instant, she had caused it. There was simply no point.

Dropping her eyes to her glass, she slowly shook it from side to side, idly watching the liquid spin. It was not a wise action; the memory of the volus literally oozing from the seams of his suit was all too easily recalled, and as much as Shepard had witnessed in her bloody, vicious career, that sight had almost been too much. Fighting to keep her stomach where it was, she turned her head and pushed the glass away, wishing there was something, _anything_, that could be salvaged from this.

There was very little. It did not help that she was far from a tactician beyond the battlefield; Garrus was truly the only one of the two who would be able to come up with a suitably devious scheme, but when she glanced at him again in the thin hope that he would be composed enough to discuss this fact, she caught sight of his fingers tightening over the thin walls of his own drinking glass. His intensity manifested itself as a single clean crack which formed quietly and rapidly down its side. It was going to break - but then he relaxed, pulled back, and the fragile glass was left with its mark. He did not seem to notice it.

For one moment, she glanced up and met his eyes. They were dark, the grey flesh around them sunken and shadowed. It was impossible to maintain the contact; her stomach knotted up and she resumed staring at her drink. It was the considerable lesser of two evils, both of which she had caused.

What to do? Time was slipping away and they were idle. Since when did Shepard ever consent to remain idle when there was no ulterior motive? She felt trapped by her own lack of resources and initiative in the situation. Trying to grasp the mission's parameters and 'progression' so far, she ignored Garrus in the hopes of formulating her own plan. There was no telling how long he would mope, or if he was moping at all, but it didn't help for him to be crafting a strategy if she had no means of knowing it.

But where to start? She had to hope that the volus' vague _'sort of' _when referring to his employment by Fade meant that he was a semi-important figure, and that his demise would cause a ripple resulting in another confrontation with Fade's cronies. Such a confrontation would lead to more chances to glean whereabouts of Fade himself, who and whatever he was, and therefore the entire situation was not lost, surely? At that moment, the actual intention of the whole mission - the location of one Sidonis - seemed to be so far away that Shepard almost forgot he was the actual target, so intent was she in the unveiling of Fade. In retrospect, a mission of this subtlety - and Garrus had clearly been correct in his former conclusion of Shepard's lack of it - may have been more suited to someone like Miranda, but Shepard was so used to working alongside the turian in any situation that she had accompanied him without a second thought. Considering the day's events, Garrus was probably beginning to appreciate (if he was in the right frame of mind to appreciate anything at all) his luck in having two whole days to reap his revenge; his original deadline of a few hours would have already been up, and all they had to show for it was the corpse of one _maybe probably hopefully _relevant volus. At least on that matter Garrus was unperturbed; despite his history of criminal prevention on this very station, his only professed opinion was that it was one less crook for someone else to deal with.

What to do? "We could search the factory district," Shepard had suggested once, lightly, perfectly aware that she had no real comprehension of its size. Garrus had shaken his head and explained just how long it would take two people, even if they were to split up, to find one person, and that wasn't even taking into account the fact that they only knew a codename. Garrus of all people knew the benefits of being known purely by a nickname, and that the person they sought could, for all they knew, have well been one of the limber asari tightening the trousers and lightening the purses of those sat in the seat opposite her. In that vein, they could not simply slaughter the entire station in their search, as tempting as the thought was to one as _fond _of the Citadel as Shepard - though in that inefficient scenario they were just as likely to locate Sidonis as any other person. In fact, that would actually be easier; at least Garrus knew what the bastard looked like.

It was impossible. It seemed insanity to have left over an hour and a half slip by with absolutely no attempt to reconcile the situation, and having to survive such a morose companion as Garrus had become was intolerable. Shepard simply could not stand it any longer. "The Normandy is due to return in 42 hours. We have 42 hours to find someone who can point us to someone who can lead us to someone else. Is this giving you a headache?"

Garrus grunted, pushing his untouched drink between his hands. For a moment Shepard feared he would not respond, deeming her attempt at conversation - no, just fucking _social interaction _- unworthy of his attention. Perhaps it was the clenching of her jaw, or his private, gradual acceptance of the situation, or some other unknown factor, but he did not ignore her. "It's been giving me a headache for weeks. I'm only frustrated because I'm so close, but can't do anything about it."

"Yeah." She did wish, occasionally, rarely, that a real apology was a part of her repertoire. Garrus paused.

"If we don't succeed in 42 hours... is that the end of this?"

The end of what? Shepard was briefly panicked before she realised his meaning was fairly simple, if not easy to respond to. She had become accustomed to his lack of communication. "You know we're on a tight budget in terms of time; the only reason we have that long is because it takes over a halfday to get across the galaxy, and here and Omega happen to be the only useful places in the entirety of it at the moment. Well," she added lightly, "this place is still debateable."

"I don't think it's the Citadel itself which has been the biggest hindrance," Garrus replied with equal casualness, though it made Shepard flinch.

"If we make no progress in two whole days, I don't see how more time will help. It'll just have to be shelved for another time." At least the suggestion that it would not be forgotten entirely seemed to placate him, though his spirits remained uncharacteristically damp. It was still a considerable improvement, but she wasn't satisfied; she wouldn't be satisfied until he was. Most of all she wanted to succeed because she had promised him, and though her morals and judgement may have been lacking in some key areas, she did know that she never broke a promise, and never to one so important to her as Garrus. That was so out of the question as to be ignored and shunned completely; to fail this mission within 42 hours would have been entirely shameful. He had never failed her; how could she fail him?

It was simple: something had to be done.

To that end, Shepard vowed that she would not sleep until she knew the morning would herald productivity. Currently, it would bring nothing but more pointless searching, and she worried that Garrus would remain all too morose to be of much use. Ha! To think that Shepard believed herself more use! Either way, it seemed to hold relatively true. Shepard was unsure why Garrus had lost his enthusiasm - though suspected it was something to do with his thirst suddenly and violently manifesting and demanding alcoholic satisfaction. Or did he simply know something that she did not? Or, then again, perhaps that was the problem; he knew just as little as she, and was equally as loathe to turn to the only people who may have been able to help in such little time. As far as Shepard knew, Garrus had already abandoned C-Sec twice in his life. Cerberus' nifty security bypasses did not exist so that their owners could just skip into the Citadel and make their anonymity - a pleasure in more ways than one - a waste of time.

It would have been lying to say that she did not consider compromising her concealment for Garrus' sake. She had caused their dilemma, however unintentionally, and who else on this damn station did she know, who still lived, apart from the officials? They were most likely to keep the information private - with appropriate persuasion - but they were the very people she most wanted to keep herself from. Memories of pointless, personal assignments designed only to distract, petty vendettas and, of course, the betrayals, some of which Shepard were subjected to herself: they did not make the notion of reaffirming her existence tempting. She knew Anderson lived, and though he was the most trustworthy of an untrustworthy lot, to contact him would only open the floodgates. Hell, they had already bumped into Ashley Williams; looking back on the complete lack of achievement in that encounter led Shepard to regret it happening at all. Thanks to it, Anderson probably already knew she was alive. That more than likely meant that others did, too, such as Udina, and the new Council.

No, no. Shepard did not want to confirm it for them. Nobody official could help them, but did she even know anybody else here?

"I, uh, don't..." Garrus' murmuring, unprovoked on Shepard's part, made her snap to immediate attention. One of his talons clumsily pushed another empty glass away, and he tried to maintain her gaze. He was swaying gently, his mandibles twitching with no apparent reason, and again she felt a stab of something she couldn't quite pinpoint. Even now she failed to fully comprehend what this opportunity had meant to him. He had never let the revenge of Doctor Saleon lead him to bursts of anger and misery and drink. Sidonis was a more personal matter, but cold revenge was still cold revenge, wasn't it?

In this case, it seemed not.

"C'mon," she muttered, removing the glass and shifting around the table so that she could help him get to his feet. He was far worse than she had expected - far worse than she would ever expect him to let himself get, it was almost disappointing - but this was no time to scold. They had already purchased accommodation for the night, and, fortunately, it was not a long journey. The turian leant on her, head bowed, holding his stomach, and she ignored the few curious glances in order to get him to relax as swiftly as possible. He paused, groaned, and she was forced to help brace his chest to stop him from tripping. He was tall and heavy, but the weight was comforting. She was so used to relying on him as a physical presence that to be able to return the favour - even in such an undignified sense as this - was satisfying. "Heh; I point, you shoot," she said quietly, receiving an amused, appreciative grunt.

By the time she came to lay him on the long, thin, hard mattress, made to turian standards, his breathing was deep and slow. She took it as a sign of recovery, knowing relatively little of the technical aspects of _human_ reaction to drink, let alone turians. Did they even get hangovers? That would potentially make tomorrow morning even more troublesome, not that it had promised to be particularly productive in the first place. Did he really think this would achieve anything? She should have been more strict; the first bad signs had been extremely early, after all. Just more reasons to believe that Shepard was just the catalyst for the mess.

Well, she thought, sitting quietly at the turian's feet as he fell asleep, that was going to change.


End file.
